Always in Repair
by H-thar
Summary: AU:Lightning comes out of crystalstasis in the middle of a revived conflict with PSICOM, the last l'Cie to wake after the fall of Cocoon. Hope has a five year head-start, but even his expert mechanical skills can't fix the bigger problems of their future.
1. Waiting for This

A/N This is my first fanfic, so please R & R with care (I have a mental image of being stabbed to death like Julius Caesar, but with red correction pens– Et tu reviewers?). I _did_ play the game and loved every minute of it, and I've enjoyed so many of the fanfics for the Hope/Light pairing that I feel it's only right I post something of my own to (hopefully) inspire the other writers in this fandom to put their ideas out there for the first time or persevere in their already awesome stories till completion! I finally discovered what OTP means, and Hope/Light is mine.

***Please note that since this is post-game, there will be spoilers.

Also, the title is based on the song "In Repair" by Our Lady Peace, and chapter titles are from the lyrics of that song. Interesting song, but it was a tough choice for the title.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Square Enix, except the titles, which belong to Our Lady Peace.

**Always in Repair**

Waiting for This

_Wake up._

Lightning was aware of the bright, cheery voice, but in the blankness of her mind could not wrap her head around the presence of Vanille somewhere in the midst of nothing. Concentrating, she felt more than heard – felt the pressure against her arms and legs, and a vague sense of movement in real time that she had not known since, well, falling out of Cocoon, out of the sky, and out of time.

_Where AM I?_

She didn't wait long for an answer. Moments later, Lightning's senses were bombarded with reality as the crystal shell dissolved away in seconds and she found herself in the hands of four bewildered PSICOM grunts, all of whom unceremoniously dropped her onto the concrete floor like a live grenade and backed off.

Instinctively reacting to possible hostility, Lightning was at the ready in an instant, gunblade out and swinging. The soldiers had no time to bring out their guns before she had already whipped a leg into the back of the knees of the one nearest her, knocking him flat on the ground, and then leaped into a somersault to land a flying kick at the heads of two others. The fourth man unsteadily aimed his weapon toward the chaotic blur incapacitating his comrades, and Lightning tried to fling a thunder spell in his direction. She was stunned for a moment as the magic didn't spark on her fingers, but she immediately recovered and closed the distance at a dead sprint, gunblade whirling around and deflecting bullets, and kicked the gun from his shaking hand before knocking him unconscious with a smack from the hilt of her weapon.

_Fun. Decades could have gone by, and PSICOM is still a pain in the ass._

In the corner of her eye, Lightning spotted the first soldier desperately whispering into his communicator and calling for reinforcements as he crawled toward an exit. Rather than waste time on him, she turned and ran down a different hallway to escape from whatever god-forsaken compound she had ended up in. There had to be a decent way out.

Lightning put a considerable amount of distance between herself and whatever reinforcements may have gone to the aid of the one conscious soldier, and after rounding what seemed like the hundredth corner, she stepped into a small inset area to check on her brand, finding nothing but unblemished skin in its place. Lightning breathed a sigh of relief, but that discovery was slightly overshadowed by her current predicament.

_Just when I really could have used some magic. Perfect._

Slinking like a cat through the empty hallways, the only things Lightning encountered for several minutes were flashing red emergency lights, accompanied by the repeated warning over the 1MC:

"_Intruder alert. Intruder alert. All personnel man your stations. Do not attempt to engage target. I repeat, do not engage target." _

She rounded one more corner to hit a short hallway with a fire escape – finally, it seemed there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Judging from the sounds coming from above and below, she was most likely on the second or third storey of the building. Lightning slowly opened the door to glance outside for enemies, and seeing that the space was clear, she stepped out onto the exterior stairwell.

It was morning outside, and had it not been for the steadily growing formation of PSICOM soldiers on the north side of the compound, it would have been a beautiful sight. Watching from the building's western face, Lightning knew that any sudden movements could attract their unwelcomed attention, so she crept slowly down the metal stairs.

Her left foot was about the leave the final step when she spotted a cluster of unmistakably Guardian Corps uniforms coming around from the south side, still at least two or three hundred meters off. Spying the black bandanna and white trench coat of the lead figure, she began to fear for her successful escape.

"Hey, there she is!" Snow was yelling back at his comrades, still running full force toward where Lightning had frozen on the steps of the fire escape. It was clear now that his group consisted of at least one NORA member in addition to the GC soldiers. Their little commotion had, not surprisingly, turned the heads of the PSICOM unit, and she could hear the scraping of boots on the pavement and shouting of orders as they began to approach from behind.

_Looks like we're doing this "hero" style – guns blazing and lives on the line. Ugh._

The first group of soldiers had closed in on Lightning, and she wasted no time in climbing back up the steps and launching off the railing to fire a volley of bullets into the group, followed up with several well-aimed kicks and slashes from her blade as she plowed into the fray. She quickly dispatched the first six men, finding that her muscles were more than willing to stretch and flex into the motions of battle after such a long period of stagnation. It was exhilarating, and before Lightning knew it, every soldier in proximity lay motionless at her feet, well before Snow and his team had fired a single shot.

Huffing loudly from the run, Snow looked surprised and disappointed at the sight. "We coulda handled that," he spluttered, "but it's all good. Didn't expect to see you awake!"

"I'm not going into all the things_I_ didn't expect," Lightning shot back, still irritated about the whole situation. "Here's hoping you have an escape plan."

"Oh yeah! We gotta get movin'!" Snow grabbed onto her arm and started to pull her back in the direction from which they had come, and she jerked her arm away with a sharp glare at his audacity as she broke into a run for the southwest corner of the building. When Lightning noticed some of the GC soldiers had formed a barrier between their group and another approaching PSICOM unit, she was tempted to join their ranks, but Snow would have none of it.

"Lightning, just – no! You're the entire point of this mission!" he shouted, barely restraining himself from making another futile attempt at using force to drag her along.

"So you plan to just leave them here?" Lightning was getting indignant, and she had already retracted the gunblade into its pistol form and taken aim.

"No, of course not! They have their own velocycles – it's part of the plan, but we have to get to the transport before they regroup!"

Snow had a point, and Lightning reluctantly sheathed her weapon as they sped around the back of the main structure and wove through a maze of smaller storage buildings and crate stacks. A few minutes later, Gadot and the remaining Guardian Corps support turned to break away, and the hulking NORA member looked to his leader as he gave Snow's hand a firm shake.

"Saw the med lab storage shed on the way in – might as well hit it up while we're here; I mean, Lightning's not gonna need the lift crew," Gadot said, and he chuckled as he punched Snow in the shoulder. "See ya at the base!" He waved as they left.

"Don't stick around too long!" Snow called out as Gadot and the others took off into a narrow passage between a low-rise building and the southern perimeter fence, heading east.

Snow began to move along the fence in the opposite direction, and Lightning followed silently, questions filling her head with every step. She needed to know what was happening, the where and why of the situation, and most urgently – the _when_.

"Snow," she began, still jogging just behind him toward the unknown destination, "how long was I in crystalstasis? And what in hell is going on here?" Lightning didn't mean to come across so harshly, but patience wasn't really one of her virtues.

"Well, this certainly is 'Hell'," Snow replied with a sardonic grin, bringing his pace down to a fast walk. "Serah says it's been over five years since Cocoon crashed into Pulse, and she woke up right after that, so I tend to believe her. Guess that means you get a five-year freebie on aging," he teased, and a few seconds later his grin widened and he let out a stifled laugh.

"What's your problem?" Lightning was in no mood for jokes, not with five years worth of questions needing to be answered _now_.

"Oh wow, you do realize this makes you the baby sister, right? Can't wait to tell Serah!" Snow had already been treading on dangerous ground, and that little comment earned him a sharp elbow to the ribs.

"Oww! Fine, I'll cut the crap," he whined, continuing as they began to approach the southwest corner of the perimeter. "In a nutshell, PSICOM's as power-crazy as ever, and they didn't exactly see the error of their ways after we l'Cie wrecked Cocoon and turned it into a giant crystal. The majority of the people died in the events leading up to the landing, and thousands of bodies are crystallized onto the surface. Evacuation ships probably saved around fifty thousand people total, 'bout a fifth of them military. Reconstruction was the focus of everything for a while, so things stayed pretty peaceful, but about three years ago things came to a head politically, and a lot of the former Guardian Corps sympathized with the l'Cie, so there ended up being a huge split, then some violence. That's how you ended up here, and that's why we're bustin' you out – well, it would have been more like stealing a weapon, but this is even easier."

"Thanks for keeping it to the point," Lightning commented, a rare moment of open consideration for her annoying brother-in-law-to-be. They had come to a damaged fusebox on the side of a building near the corner of the compound, and as Snow peeled back the wire from a pre-cut opening in the fence, he jerked a thumb toward the rigged switchboard dangling from the box.

"Just in case you were wondering how we snuck into this hellhole."

A device buzzed with static on Snow's belt, and he pulled it off to listen. The voice on the other end sounded vaguely familiar to Light, but she couldn't place it.

"Snow, do you cop…? What is…current posit…?"

"Point of entry. Be there in five," Snow replied.

"Make it two! W…need t…eave _now_," the strange voice fired back, clearly frustrated.

"Fine, in two." Snow put the device away and squeezed through the hole in the fence.

Lightning managed a "Hmph" before going through herself and darting into a patch of trees just a few meters away. A smaller, dilapidated-looking transport ship was hidden among the foliage a little ways off, ramp lowered in expectation of the "cargo." She wondered if Sazh had awakened, and maybe was even flying the ship, and then she thought about Fang and Vanille. Something in the back of her mind told her that they were permanently out of the picture – that their presences were immutably fixed to the fate of Cocoon.

Above all, a simple question incessantly tugged at her: _What__about__Hope?_ Part of her hoped he hadn't been awake long, surviving Pulse without her protection.

Running toward their goal, Lightning heard the roar of the engine and felt the ground rumble as the ship started up, and she saw a taller figure run out onto the ramp and wave wildly in their direction before going back inside.

"We're outta here!" Snow yelled as they closed the distance and sprinted up the ramp and into the belly of the ship. The ramp began to retract and the doors closed while Lightning and Snow, somewhat out of breath from the exertion, took their seats. The soldier was only hazily aware that the unfamiliar person had joined them and handed her a bottle of water, which she gladly took.

"Thanks," she said quickly, before gulping the water down. More questions had already begun to flood her mind – questions about where they were going, how her sister had been living all those years, and why the ship's engine was so insufferably loud.

"Not a problem, Light," he replied, and the familiarity of both the voice and form of address caught her attention again. Finally looking up, she casually appraised the young man, apparently their pilot, as he strode toward the cockpit. He was nothing out of the ordinary in simple brown coveralls tied at the waist and a white t-shirt, but the shock of silver hair was too unusual to ignore. Once he was out of sight and the ship began to lift off, Lightning took the opportunity to sate her curiosity.

"So Snow, who's flying this thing?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"You're kidding, right?" Snow exclaimed, incredulous. Lightning was taken aback by his reaction, and she huffed in exasperation.

"Do I look like I'm kidding?" She clearly wasn't. Unless 'kidding' was somehow Pulsian slang for 'shooting daggers from one's eyes.'

"Unbelievable," Snow said, throwing his hands in the air. Then he yelled toward the cockpit. "Hey Hope, you owe me five hundred gil!"

_What? _

Wide-eyed with her jaw irretrievably dropped to the floor, Lightning didn't expect the aftershock of hearing the pilot's response… and definitively recognizing the voice.

"Thanks a lot Snow – you've got 'jumping the gun' down to an art!" came Hope's reply, dripping with disdain.

"Sure, sure. You know the terms, and she had a decent shot at getting it right." Snow had never looked so self-satisfied in his life, arms folded across his chest as he smugly regarded Lightning in her state of bewilderment.

_I __can__'__t _believe _this._


	2. Order Up New Parts

A/N: Interestingly enough, I just noticed that my original second chapter had no author's note :P Well, I've added that to the list of revisions. Most of them are minor – aesthetic really, but I had to make this effort to polish off some of the rough edges. As always, happy reading!

(revised 29SEP11)

Order Up New Parts

Crossing the plains of rampaging beasts in the makeshift aircraft would have been a nerve-wracking experience under any other circumstances, but in this case, the sounds of roaring animals blended with rattling metal to create a welcome distraction from the awkward silence. Snow's constant barrage of chatter did not count.

"I really expected to lose on that bet! Thought you'd know Hope anywhere after all that time fighting together. Guess it's been a while, but seriously –"

"Sorry to disappoint you," Lightning snapped, cutting Snow off in an attempt to salvage what pride remained and hopefully end the discussion.

_How on earth did I not recognize Hope? Slap in the face to my target identification training._

Snow wisely decided to change the subject. "So anyway, Serah's gonna need some help with the wedding stuff before long – wouldn't think of having it without you. Now that you're back, I figured the sooner the better!"

"Sure." _Better __to __not __fuel __this __conversation. __Does __he __never __shut __up?_

Lightning sat with her arms crossed, strapped in with the harness to a hard bucket seat across from her sister's unfortunate choice of a fiancé, annoyance practically oozing from every pore.

"What's with you? Stuck as a crystal for five years without any of us around and you still won't hold a normal conversation!"

"Give it a rest, Snow!" Hope yelled over his shoulder from the pilot's seat. "Obviously she's still in shock, so make yourself useful and check the rear sights – I can't tell if they're tailing us from here!"

"Roger that!" Snow reluctantly dropped his mission to snap Lightning out of her apparent 'shock' and left the main cabin.

As far as Lightning could tell, this new reality was going to take serious adjustment, not the least of which was based in recognition of the people around her. Snow didn't seem to have changed much, which she considered a loss for the good of her sanity and mankind in general. She wondered for the thousandth time what Serah could possibly see in him, aside from his "never give up" mentality. That she could appreciate, after the whole l'Cie incident.

Hope, on the other hand… All that came to mind was an image of the 14-year-old she had, in her mental time-frame, just seen in the battle with Orphan and the chaos of Cocoon's destruction. The terrified but determined boy that healed them time and again and cast incredibly powerful magic, but had at one point resigned himself to stay behind and die for the sake of the group. The Hope who had yet to recover from the loss of his mother, and was forced to let go of his father.

That Hope and the one sitting up front piloting the ship were refusing to blend properly in her head, and she wondered just how much of the boy she had protected and fought with remained after so much drastic change.

_Maybe I should ask him some questions, gauge the responses—_

Lightning's contemplation was interrupted as Snow barged back into the cabin, shouting toward the front, "All clear, Hope! You should've seen the way that cruiser hit the side of this massive adamantoise! Blew into a million pieces!"

"At least we lost them," Hope called back, and then added a little more quietly, "Would it have killed them to just turn back?"

_Good to know the new Hope still prefers sparing lives. That's one question down._

"So Sis, back to the whole wedding plans thing—"

"_Don__'__t_ call me _Sis,_" Lightning hissed, barely restraining her fist from connecting with Snow's face.

_Screw it all. I need a new approach to survive this trip, and I can't give Snow the opportunity to open his big mouth again._

"Okay, okay, fine," Snow relented, a new conversation already in the works. "It'll be true soon enough anyway; just thought you should get used to –"

"Hey, Hope!" Lightning yelled toward the pilot, intending to find an excuse to be quietly occupied somewhere else, preferably _alone._

In the moment that her words hit their target, the craft jerked sharply to the left, Lightning's head slammed against the bulkhead, and the unfortunate Snow, unrestrained, flew across the cabin and let rip a string of expletives before Hope had managed to steady the course and finally respond with a shaky "What's up?"

_Should be asking YOU that question, but let's not get sidetracked._

Recovering her composure and rubbing what was surely a nasty bruise, Lightning managed to get the request out. "Hope, give me a task – menial, useless, I don't care."

"Sure thing! Oh and sorry about that turn – svarog came out of nowhere! Anyway, you could umm, come up here and help with landing clearance procedures," Hope offered, a bit unsteadily.

_Well that backfired._

"It's simple – I'll tell you exactly what to do," he continued, sounding (for lack of a better word) _hopeful_ in his attempt to fill the brief but uncomfortable silence.

_Great. Can't back down now, but at least I won't have to listen to Snow up there._

"Sounds good," Lightning hastily replied as she unstrapped and moved to the front, squeezing into the tiny cockpit and occupying what must have functioned as a co-pilot's seat.

_Why isn't there a co-pilot? Isn't that an important position?_

Then the question took form unbidden.

"No need for a co-pilot, huh," she said bluntly.

"Well, I wouldn't say there's no _need_, but I fly better alone, when it's quiet. If there's a legitimate need for a co-pilot I can call someone up here. Thanks for volunteering, by the way. Saved me having Snow talk my ear off again!" Hope rattled off nervously.

"Perfect. Just tell me what to do and we can stick to the 'quiet' plan," Lightning said in her usual no-nonsense tone.

_Maybe __that __came __out __a __bit __harsh._ She practically felt Hope's spirits wilting as he absently tested the radio controls and focused on the dash.

"I mean, talk if you want, just trying to support your safe flight system," she quickly tacked on.

_That just sounded stupid. Best to take my own advice and shut it for now._

Lightning could clearly see that Hope, despite being attentive to his task, was amused by her clumsy attempt at civility – it showed in his crooked grin and laughing eyes. However, he quickly wiped the look off his face and proceeded with the routine instructions like it was business as usual.

"When we start to approach the landing site on base, I'll need you to flash this signal three times – no, not the green button, the red one here – and then listen for the tower to make contact on the radio." He handed Lightning the transmitter and showed her the channel frequency and volume controls on the dash. "We're on channel six now, but if there's interference when we reach a certain point, I'll tell you to change over to ten, and if there's still no signal, change to three, in that order. Basically, just wait for my instructions. Like I said, incredibly simple. Got all that?"

"Yes. Simple. But what am I supposed to use this transmitter for?"

"Oh, right! Sorry, guess that's kind of important," Hope replied with an unsteady laugh, but he immediately got back to the issue at hand. "Ground control will contact us and ask for our ship's identification code – works like a password. At that point, just press this button," he briefly pressed the side of the handheld transmitter to demonstrate, "and say, 'BARTHOLOMEW731 requesting clearance to land'. They will confirm."

"Got it." With that, Lightning replaced the transmitter and sat back in silence, resigned to monitor her periphery as Hope returned to checking gauges and adjusting settings every so often to make sure the clunky little patchwork aircraft made it safely home. At the mention of the name Bartholomew, Lightning thought back to their time as l'Cie and recalled the run-in with Hope's father in Palumpolum. She wondered what exactly had become of _that_ Bartholomew, last known to be in custody of the Cavalry before Cocoon's destruction. She knew enough about the realities of war to doubt the likelihood of his survival.

Lightning decided that it was probably not the best time to bring up such a touchy subject, so long as their safe arrival depended on Hope's competency to fly, so she directed her thoughts to the immediate surroundings instead. Hope seemed a confident pilot, obviously well-trained with a decent amount of experience, and she speculated that Sazh could very well have been responsible for that. If Serah, Hope, Snow, and herself had awakened from crystalstasis, it made perfect sense that Sazh would have as well. What she couldn't seem to reconcile in the whole scenario was Hope the person, there in the flesh. Her mind continued to register the Hope sitting on her right as a separate entity from the Hope in her mind, even after speaking with him and realizing the obvious connection with Bartholomew.

_I should get a better look at him._

Lightning had botched her opportunity during Hope's instructions before, having switched into soldier-in-training mode and completely zoned in on the task. She rapidly sorted through options for an effective and risk-free means of regaining his attention.

Settling on a plan, Lightning faced the pilot and addressed him.

"Hope, is there a map of the area in here? I'm not familiar with the terrain."

_Wow, I sound stupid to myself._

"What? Just a sec," Hope said, coming out of a state of sharp concentration and shaking his head briefly to clear his thoughts. "Oh yeah, the map. It's right there, in that compartment." Without so much as a sideways glance, he smoothly and mechanically reached over to open the drawer, rifled through a stack of documents, and pulled out a worn, folded paper, which he handed to her. "It's a bit sketchy though – any maps available since Cocoon 'landed' are just handmade, usually based on a lot of guesswork. This one's a little more accurate – former team NORA scouted the terrain for months to make this edition," he added with a sense of pride in his fellow rebels. He shut the drawer and continued to monitor the dash and make a few adjustments, setting a more southerly course.

"I see," Lightning quietly responded, secretly wondering if Hope could in fact make a sandwich, read a schematic and construct an explosive while operating the aircraft. There seemed to be no interrupting him. She unfolded the over-used map, noting the locations of Cocoon, PSICOM, and their eventual destination, the rebel base. After a brief perusing, Lightning realized that she had yet to achieve her original goal, and she was not about to be deterred.

_Time to be more direct._

"Well, I don't see the facility we escaped from on this map. I thought Snow said it was a PSICOM outpost, and I only see their headquarters marked here," she stated matter-of-factly, holding up the map and pointing to the northeast corner.

At that accusation, Hope decided to temporarily shift into full auto-pilot and took a serious look at the map, knitting his brow in frustration. After a few moments of investigation, he brightened up and pointed emphatically at the paper.

_Alright. Let's see just how much of the original Hope remains._

"It's southwest of the settlement's outskirts, there!" Hope said with a satisfied smirk, oblivious to Lightning's intense stare. "Just lightly marked though – it's been a confirmed outpost for a while now, so we really need to update the map." Upon looking to Lightning for approval and meeting that scrutinizing, icy gaze, Hope's expression of pride in the accuracy of the map melted into an odd mixture of embarrassment and concern.

"Light, is something wrong? Seriously, is there something on my face?" Hope inquired, completely caught off guard and progressively turning darker shades of pink. "Because you look really, umm, focused."

Lightning, opting to avoid prolonging Hope's state of discomfort, diverted her gaze to the map and decided to take the most direct approach possible to his questions, if only to eliminate the awkwardness. She was at least pleased to find that the he had retained the scared puppy look; it was textbook Hope.

"No, there's nothing wrong and there's certainly nothing on your face, besides that smirk a minute ago. As for me, I'm _focusing_ on getting the facts straight about our current situation. You should be used to _that_ look."

_In __all __fairness, __maybe __that__'__s __not __true __after __five __years._

"Oh. Right. Anyway, I hope the map can help you with that, then," Hope sheepishly replied, abruptly switching out of auto-pilot and returning to the controls with a renewed dedication.

"Thanks," Lightning belatedly replied in an unsuccessful attempt to soften the force of her last conversational blow. Hope was already lost in concentration, mostly through sheer willpower.

Her objective achieved, Lightning distractedly looked at the map while reflecting on the recently gathered spoils of her observations.

_Same green eyes. Same expressions. Same attitude, albeit cockier at times. Can't picture that smirk on the face of a younger Hope, though._

More obvious traits came through as well. Hope had a decidedly more defined jaw line, though still more curved than squared off, as well as somewhat shorter, shaggier hair, particularly in the back, and broader shoulders. Increased muscle mass was a given, though he was nowhere near Snow's size – completely different, lankier body type. Lightning also estimated that he was most likely taller than her by about four inches, give or take an inch, but it was hard to guess from a sitting position. While none of these features were remarkable in isolation, the combination of everything was more than a little unsettling for her.

_Concentrate __on __the __familiar. __Those __eyes __haven__'__t __changed __a __bit. __Making __that __my __focal __point __for __now._

Lightning enjoyed nearly fifteen minutes of uninterrupted contemplation before Snow shattered the barrier to the 'quiet zone' like a rock busting through a window.

"_Holy __crap!__"_

Lightning and Hope both jumped in their seats at Snow's outburst, and then exchanged looks of exasperation at the sounds of mayhem coming from behind. The soldier turned to look into the main cabin and discern the source of the commotion.

Snow's back was turned to her, but he appeared to be struggling with something – a loud, shrieking something – while kneeling on the floor, before being jerked to the ground completely by a force beyond Lightning's view.

"Snow, what the hell is going on?" she yelled toward his back.

"Nothing – got it under control! Just opened the cargo hatch – hold still you crazy vulture! – and this giant bird flew right in!" Snow shouted back between grunts as he struggled with the creature. It was in plain sight now, locked in both of his arms and thrashing, and Lightning did a mental face-palm at Snow's pathetic attempt to gain control with wrestling maneuvers.

_Idiot._

"Why did you even _open_ the cargo hatch in the first place?" Hope yelled to the back, trying to listen for contact from the base and irritated at the pointless disturbance, especially that close to landing.

"Geez, I just wanted some fresh air! It's freakin' hot in here, and it – _oww_ that's my _ear_! – seemed like a good idea at the time," Snow futilely defended, wincing at the creature's assault on his head.

"I'll take care of it," Lightning grumbled, climbing into the main cabin and making her way to Snow amidst the rumbling of the ship and cloud of dust and debris now stirring up in the back. "Let go of the bird and back off!"

Snow did as he was told and rolled out of the danger zone. Lightning steadied herself and kicked the young wyvern squarely in the side of the head, knocking it unconscious in one swift motion.

"Done. Toss it back out of the cargo hatch."

"What? That seems kinda cruel – it can't fly off like this!" Snow protested, ego irrevocably smashed, but nonetheless feeling his sense of justice.

"Glad to know you have a soft spot for Pulsian monsters," Lightning retorted derisively. Her memories of encounters with the wildlife of Pulse were visions of carnage, so she was understandably less than thrilled at the prospective new passenger and Snow's stubbornness.

"It's wrong and you know it, so just let me handle the clean up – _humanely_," Snow pressed, sticking to his guns.

"Fine. Maybe you can teach it some tricks later," Lightning continued to jab. "For now, since you like your new pet so very much, I suggest finding something to tie it down for the rest of this trip."

"Light, get back up here! We've got an ETA of less than five minutes, and I need you for the landing procedures," a somewhat peeved Hope shouted into the main cabin.

For a split second, surprise registered on Lightning's face at the commanding tone in that voice. She shook it off, turned on her heel and climbed back into the front, leaving Snow to bind up the avian pest.

"I can already see the landing site – go ahead and flash the signal," Hope ordered, continuing to adjust the flaps and thrusters to reduce speed.

It should have been the most effortless task she had ever tackled, but Lightning could not for the life of her remember if Hope had said green or red, at least not after the little run-in with Snow's latest screw-up. Her brain kept inexplicably making a connection with the green, so she went with her instinct.

Lightning started to hit the green button, but before she could make contact, a larger, gloved hand gripped the top of hers and moved it over the red button on the right.

Hope sighed audibly. "I told you. Red."

_I am incompetent._

"Right. Sorry," Lightning said quietly, mashing the red button three times. She was relieved to have remembered _that_ part correctly.

"It's okay, just don't forget the clearance code – BARTHOLOMEW731," Hope reminded her, and the little smirk was there again. He seemed more amused than anything else with catching Lightning in a mistake.

Suddenly, a familiar voice came over the radio. "We received your signal – please identify." Even through the static, Sazh was easy to recognize.

Lightning pushed the button and spoke into the transmitter, a bit unsure of herself, but determined to get it right. "BARTHOLOMEW731 requesting clearance to land," she said, hoping any uncertainty in her voice would be disguised by the background noise.

"Confirmed. Hey wait! That you, Light?" Sazh yelled over the radio, confused but excited.

"Umm, yeah, it's me," she replied. "Good to hear you Sazh."

"Glad to have ya back! We got a lot of catching up to do, but for now, happy landing!" Sazh shouted enthusiastically, ending the transmission.

"Nicely done," Hope said with a smile, taking the transmitter from Light and securing it quickly. "Now tighten your harness – this can get bumpy. Landing thrusters seriously need a tune up," he warned, putting every ounce of attention into maintaining his heading.

"Well that's comforting," Lightning remarked, more to herself than anyone else.

"Hey Snow, strap in!" Hope yelled into the main cabin. "We're coming in hot, but don't worry – I got this."

_Certainly hope he lives up to that confidence._

As they hit the first wave of turbulence from the drag on the flaps, Lightning tightened her harness straps in a vice grip, looking to her right at Hope's determined expression for reassurance. He hastily swiped the hair out of his eyes, becoming irritated with the hot gloves on his hands – in the space of less than five seconds he had removed each glove in turn with his teeth, casting them to the floor and making certain to keep his hold on the steering with at least one hand at all times. For some inconceivable reason, it occurred to Lightning for the first time that Hope was actually quite attractive when he zoned in like that.

_Disturbing. Must be nervous tension messing with my head._

Lightning glued her attention to the front and remained intensely interested in the switches on the panel and the limited visible scenery.

The base's control tower was getting closer by the second, and just as Lightning began to suspect that they might in fact graze some of the taller vegetation, Hope lowered the landing gear, calling out "Hold on guys!" as he engaged the lower thrusters and pulled up hard on the steering.

It already felt like an oven in the cabin, but the crew would still have been sweating bullets from the bone-jarring force of the thrusters. Hearing the grinding and groaning noises of metal all around, Lightning was certain the aircraft would tear to pieces. She clenched her teeth and silently waited for the inevitable.

"Almost there…" Hope mentally counted down to the touchdown. "C'mon c'mon c'mon… _Now_!" He cut the thrusters and the ship dropped the final few feet to strike the landing pad, metal gear grating on stone. The three on board took a collective breath of relief.

"I've _really _gotta… do maintenance… on those thrusters. Still running too hot," Hope muttered, out of breath and wiping the sweat that was beginning to run down his face with his old turquoise bandanna.

_So he kept that thing._

Lightning hadn't been aware that she was watching him, and she hastily looked down and fumbled as she undid the harness straps, still a bundle of tension in the aftermath of their tumultuous descent. Her uniform was completely soaked with sweat and stuck uncomfortably to every part of her body _and_ the seat. She wanted to get out of that sauna of an aircraft as quickly as possible, and got up to squeeze out of the cockpit.

"Hey Light, wait a sec," Hope said, grabbing hold of her left forearm. Lightning whipped around, intending to communicate her firm desire to get the hell out with a well-aimed glare, but the look disappeared with her confusion at Hope's face. His expression was inscrutable, but he obviously had something important to say. Despite the already sweltering temperature, Lightning felt her face getting hotter under that gaze. She didn't have room to fidget or run – she was trapped.

"What?" Lightning asked simply, willing herself to remain calm and trying to focus on something _other_ than his eyes, which were supposed to be a source of comfort and familiarity. That was _not_ a comforting look.

_Backfired. Again._

"I just, umm, wanted to thank you for helping me," Hope stammered, his tone still serious as the grave. "That's all."

He had to have been just as uncomfortable as she was in the stuffy cabin, white t-shirt thoroughly drenched and clinging to his body. Lightning decided it was safest to stare down the deck. She was determined to remain in control of the situation, emotions in tow.

Hope slowly relinquished the loose grip on her arm, letting his hand slide down to brush her fingertips and fall away. Lightning's head felt fuzzy, like she was losing mental focus.

_Think I'm suffering from heat exhaustion. Getting out of here NOW._

"It was nothing," Lightning replied shortly, swiping a hand across her forehead as she swiftly turned and moved out of the cramped space. She picked up the pace and all but ran out the main cabin's exit and down the ramp, bumping into a confused-looking Snow in her path.

_Stupid overheated thrusters._

* * *

Snow already had the bound baby wyvern on a modified leash out on the landing platform and was trying out a string of ridiculous nicknames, touting his refusal to back down from Lightning's "pet" challenge.

"Think I'll call him Freakazoid. Nah, too long," Snow considered, half talking to himself, half asking the creature. "Or maybe just Ragnarok, Rocky for short!"

"Rrraaakkk!" the nameless reptilian bird screeched.

"Yeah, I agree. That just seems wrong," Snow admitted, with a pained expression reminiscent of the four l'Cie's feelings five years before, as they had watched Fang and Vanille float away to become the dreaded beast, helpless to save them. He brooded for a moment and kicked a small rock across the clearing.

"I got it!" He suddenly perked up as inspiration hit. "Snuggles, the Dastardly. I _like_ it!"

Had "Snuggles" been sentient, it undoubtedly would have rolled its glassy eyes and gone for a second bite of Snow's ear over the name. As it was, the only eye-rolling came from an exhausted Hope, as he gathered a few tools and headed down the ramp toward the unlikely pair of man and beast.

"Don't tell me you took her _seriously_," Hope said, laughing at the scene. He knew the score, especially after Snow's play-by-play of the mission during the never-ending awkwardness at the start of their trip, and Lightning held a commanding lead over everyone in her path since awakening. Snow was an easy target; all she had done was _imply_ a challenge to train the creature, and his ego had nearly imploded.

"Nah, I just thought it over, and having a guard-bird like this around might come in handy," Snow defended. "Not for me, ya know – for Serah," he clarified.

"Sure," Hope said absently, setting the tools on the ground and stretching his limbs after the long flight. "Let me know how your little experiment goes. Oh, and make sure 'Snuggles' stays out of the hangar. At _all_ times."

Hope's workshop was in the hangar, and he had absolutely no intention of letting some crazed, winged beast wreck the place and scatter his equipment from hither to yon. He rarely allowed other _people_ to invade his space, much less Snow's new pet. In fact, the last time Snow himself had set foot in the hangar, an entire ratchet set had gone missing, only to not-so-mysteriously turn up in Serah's bathroom weeks later.

_And the toilet was still broken. Typical._

Hope knew that Snow considered it an insult to his manhood to ask for help if he hadn't tried to fix whatever-it-was himself first. After declaring the situation beyond repair, he had finally told Hope that Serah was "going to make him suffer" if the bathroom flooded again, so Hope had taken the whole toilet apart and installed a new pipe, making a point to _not_ use the ratchet set. He had calmly informed Snow that the next time he thought about sneaking tools out of the hangar, he ought to take the biggest hammer in the toolbox and shove it somewhere personal, then call for a professional.

He still laughed at the memory of Snow's flabbergasted expression. It was like having a goofy older brother, something he was foreign to as an only child, at least before his years at the rebel camp. They were like one big crazy family, consisting mostly of the former l'Cie, NORA, and a massive number of Guardian Corps members who defected after the new PSICOM leadership had started displaying the controlling tendencies of the Purge period all over again. Without the backing of the powerful fal'Cie on the side of PSICOM, coupled with limited manpower and resources on both sides, the rebel cause this time around was far from a lost one.

Hope took comfort in the prospect of returning to the norm of base life as he picked up his tool bag and casually made his way toward the control tower, but as his eye caught Lightning climbing the ladder to Sazh, he was reminded of just how far from normal everything was about to be. Hope was obviously ecstatic about her return; he had spent plenty of time wondering about when it would finally happen, what he would say, and how she would react. When she had unexpectedly awakened and was physically present, it threw him completely off balance, and Hope didn't _do_ disequilibrium. His emotions were towing the line between excitement and anxiety, and it was beyond frustrating. He had felt something like that before, during the fruitless search for his father shortly after his own crystalstasis had ended. From previous experience, he knew that dinner was not going to be an option; it was like Snuggles had been unleashed in his stomach.

_I just need to get started on the thrusters as soon as possible. Projects are always a nice distraction._

Sazh was waving to him from the tower, and Hope offered a half-hearted smile and waved a hand back, intending to wait for whatever interaction between Lightning and Sazh was over, and then find out if Yuj and Maqui had gathered the parts to repair the thrusters. He did not feel like making another attempt at conversation with Lightning for the time being, not in his fatigued condition; there was a high probability that the first sentence out of his mouth would be wrecked beyond repair.

From the ground, it looked like Lightning had relaxed a bit while chatting with Sazh. She was leaning her back against the side-panel of the observation window, gesturing toward the ship across the landing site, and then shaking her head.

_Guess that was a fun first impression of our technology. Welcome to the future._

Hope couldn't avoid feeling a pang of disappointment about the whole 'rescue' mission. He used the term loosely – it was more like a collision between the rebel squad and an arena fight in progress. They had merely removed Lightning from a pile of unconscious PSICOM soldiers and the panicking reinforcements and fled the scene. In their defense, no one expected to encounter a flesh-and-blood Lightning, awake and with a vengeance, but Hope just could not get over the fact that the culmination of their efforts was a horribly rough landing – one that he still should have been proud of, given the condition of the ship.

_Light probably thinks I'm incompetent. I need a do-over._

Hope sat with his back against the shaded side of the tower, sighing heavily and casting the tools to the side. His mind wandered to the barracks arrangement, recalling that the only livable space was next to Serah's quarters, and he wondered how long Lightning would be able to live near Snow for the sake of her sister before it came to blows. He would probably have to give up his own place next to the 'condemned' block for Lightning and take up permanent residence in the hangar, or else move over to the room adjacent to the happy couple.

_I should just stay in the hangar._

Hope was already starting to doze off when Sazh jumped down from the end of the ladder and clapped him on the shoulder, shocking him out of his relaxed state and back into the present predicament.

"Hey, wake up lazy-bones! We gotta give Light the guided tour," Sazh scolded good-naturedly, chuckling at his protégé. "You look like some half-dead chicken a pack of lobos dragged in!"

"Ngh," Hope mumbled, stretching and trying to shake off his sleepiness. "Thanks a lot, old man. Good to see you, too."

"C'mon, you know I'm just messin' with you," Sazh replied with a wide grin. "Got some good news, too – the guys found those parts for the thrusters."

"That's awesome!" Hope exclaimed, looking very much like a kid who had just found his favorite toy. "You've seriously saved my life."

Hope was genuinely thrilled, and he heaved a sigh of relief and sprawled flat on his back, putting his hands behind his head and raising a knee. The drastic change in his mood over mundane aircraft parts earned a somewhat confused look from Sazh, who clearly wanted an explanation.

"Well you _saw_ the landing – probably the worst one I've had since my first time flying!" Hope qualified, propping himself up on his elbows.

"Oh, it wasn't that bad, especially with the landing thrusters roasting the ship like a pig on the spit. I could feel the heat from the tower!" Sazh was laughing out loud about the incident, but Hope could tell he just wanted to make him feel better about the landing.

"I hope it didn't fry any wires under there, but I'm sure I'll find out tonight," Hope noted, his plans for a few days of solitude and reflection already in motion. "How fast can they get those parts to the hangar?"

"Done. I can take care of moving the ship myself – plenty of buoyancy transporters available, so you oughtta take a break tonight," Sazh offered, with that scheming look he always got just before setting Hope up for some situation that ended, without fail, in either boredom or embarrassment. He meant well, but forced socializing wasn't really Hope's thing.

"Don't really have the time. The hangar was a mess from all the mission preparations when we left, and I need to get it set up for this project," Hope countered, knowing full well that while his excuse was completely legitimate, Sazh had heard it all before, and he was not going down without a fight.

"So let me get this straight – you're tellin' me that on the day Light comes back after five years in crystalstasis, you're gonna spend the evening all by your lonesome cleaning up the hangar?" Sazh gave him a look that both resembled a father about to deal out judgment and a drinking buddy who could not believe what his friend just did. It was a hard look to pull off, and Hope wondered if Sazh practiced in the mirror at night just to dole out that particularly potent look of shame to destroy his pathetic teenage willpower.

_No way he's guilting me out of this one. Time to man up._

"Look, it won't take long to clean up, and I'm not going out there until later tonight anyway. We can all show Light around the base first, then set her up in a room somewhere – she'll probably just crash. It's not like I can spend any quality time with her while she's unconscious, so I don't see the problem," Hope finished, sounding exasperated and hoping Sazh would leave him be.

"Fine. But I still say it's a harebrained idea. Really should be _you_ finding a place to crash. And if I find out you fell asleep under the ship again, I'm _not_ gonna come wake you up and drag your butt out," Sazh said with a note of finality, shaking his head at the stubborn teen he'd been training for the last three years.

"Got it," Hope muttered, laying back down and staring up at the cloudless sky. The sun was getting lower in the west, turning the landscape more dusky by the minute. It was impossible for him to resist the urge to sleep, so he closed his eyes and gave in to it.

Hope had no idea how many minutes had passed, but he vaguely heard Lightning quietly drop from the ladder and approach Sazh, who jumped a little at her sudden arrival. The mild sounds of conversation were nowhere near enough to disturb his nap.

"Hey! Glad you finally decided to join us. I was just talking about giving you a tour," Sazh offered, nudging Hope's side with a boot to wake him.

"Stop it," Hope mumbled, rolling onto his side. "Five minutes." Sazh just continued poking his back with the toe of his boot.

_So tired…leave me alone._

Finally, Hope gave up and unsteadily pulled himself into a sitting position. "Alright, alright. I'm up. What's going on?" he asked groggily, rubbing his eyes, only hazily registering Lightning's presence.

His vision cleared, and he instantly perked up. "Oh, hey. Sorry about that – long day, I guess," Hope commented, stretching and trying not to look as caught-off-guard as he felt.

"You could say that," Lightning replied indifferently, and Hope wondered if anything ever really rattled her composure. The closest she had come to expression so far was frustration with Snow and some kind of confusion when he had grabbed her arm. If she was unsettled in the least by their new reality, it didn't show one iota.

_Wish I could pull that off._

Hope was certain that all his emotions showed on his face, like an open book with the most embarrassing parts highlighted in bright green. Speed was on his side, so he quickly picked up the tools and stood, brushing off some dirt and turning his attention toward Sazh. "You were saying?"

Sazh raised an eyebrow at him, and then continued. "Right, tour time. Last stop, Serah's place."

"I'll get Snow," Hope offered, jogging to the other side of the landing site.

_Sometimes that big goof can be pretty useful._


	3. Life That We Share

A/N: Sorry about the delay, and about the length of this chapter – some things really just get away from me! What's even more surprising is how many _deleted_ parts came out of this section in order to trim it down :P Part of the problem was my decision to overlap small sections of the same scene from each perspective, which you will see at the beginning of each segment here. Please R&R, and if you don't think the overlap served a good purpose, let me know!

(revised 29SEP11)

Life That We Share

Lightning had spent the last several minutes perusing Sazh's collection of memorabilia in the control tower, waiting for the conversation to die down below. She could see them talking, but it was eerily quiet in the tower. The middle-aged man had been an excellent source of information about everything from grass-roots chocobo farming efforts to Serah's recent flare for cooking. He also talked about Hope a good deal, so she had been able to avoid asking a lot of questions and sounding oddly anxious.

She did end up asking one question though, concerning the fate of Hope's father. Lightning was curious about the ship's name, and used that as a platform for inquiry; she had pointed toward the ship when asking about Bartholomew's whereabouts, and Sazh's answer had been a somber "No luck." At that, all she could manage was to shake her head in disappointment. Lighting knew it was unlikely, but some glimmer of hope had remained that both of the unfortunate boy's parents would not have been lost.

This new information had also given her some insight into Hope's mannerisms and lifestyle. Sazh had gone on about how much time he spent working on various maintenance and repair projects in the hangar, sometimes without emerging for days, and then only to get provisions. Lightning was all too familiar with that sort of "total distraction" coping mechanism. At one point she had encouraged it during her travels with Hope as l'Cie, but she had rescinded her advice when he started following it with enthusiasm, planning his revenge and taking unnecessary risks.

_I tried so hard to make sure he didn't follow my example. Even while completely absent for five years, I've still been a bad influence. Nice job, Light._

She looked at several pictures stuck onto a little message board, some of Dajh's birthday parties, some of Hope working on the ship, and one of the first time he had flown it – he couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen there. Seeing evidence of transition helped Lightning to finally start melding her mental concepts of the past and present Hope, to the point that, instead of two separate entities side by side, a single, blurred image made up of Hope at all the stages she had seen formed in her mind.

_Well, it's a start._

Opening the door to the small landing, Lightning heard the remnants of an argument between Sazh and Hope. The two had obviously become close, more like a father and son, but without the obligations attached. Hope sounded like he was holding his own.

"Look, it won't take long to clean up, and I'm not going out there until later tonight anyway. We can all show Light around the base first, then set her up in a room somewhere – she'll probably just crash. It's not like I can spend any quality time with her while she's unconscious, so I don't see the problem."

_I really don't want to sleep anymore. Five years is the line._

"Fine. But I still say it's a harebrained idea. Really should be _you_ finding a place to crash. And if I find out you fell asleep under the ship again, I'm _not_ gonna come wake you up and drag your butt out." It sounded like Sazh had ended the argument. Hope mumbled some response, but Lightning couldn't hear it. She smiled a little at the thought of him passed out under the ship, and the image got more ridiculous when she thought of Sazh pulling him out. Lightning stifled a laugh and took a couple of minutes to compose herself before starting down the ladder.

When she reached the bottom, Sazh didn't seem to notice her arrival, so she walked up right beside him. He was obviously startled and immediately explained his plan for a tour, but Hope was stretched out on the ground, completely unresponsive. Unlike Sazh, Lightning honestly didn't care if he wanted to sleep.

_He __looks __peaceful. _The last time she'd seen Hope that way, he had called for his mother.

Lightning almost suggested that Sazh leave him alone, but Hope had already started moving and then sat up, insisting that he was awake. When he finally noticed her looking down at him, he became visibly alert.

"Oh, hey. Sorry about that – long day, I guess," he said, stretching.

"You could say that," Lightning responded, unsure how to begin a conversation while her mind was buzzing in its state of information overload.

Fortunately for her, the conversation never happened, as Hope immediately got back on the subject and volunteered to get Snow for the tour. When he stood up, Lightning noticed that her estimated measurements were fairly accurate – he was, in fact, about five inches taller than her. Despite knowing beforehand that this was probable, she was disturbed by the sensation of being _shorter_ than her former trainee, and something else occurred to the proud Guardian Corps soldier that made her head spin.

_Is he stronger than me? Or faster? Not that it matters. Superior training makes up for differences in strength anyway._

Lightning could not gauge anything from his slow jog across the landing site as it was, so she let the subject drop. A couple of minutes later, Hope and Snow returned to the tower, monster bird in tow. It was on some sort of rope leash, wings still bound, but able to walk on its own.

"Why is that thing still here?" Lightning immediately asked, perturbed at Snow's continued stubborn streak.

"Hey, it was _your_ idea to train him," Snow fired back, grinning. "Name's Snuggles the Dastardly, by the way."

"I don't think I have to tell you what's going to happen to you andthat _thing_ if it does anything to Serah," Lightning warned, not wasting any time in setting the ground rules.

"Fine, but you've gotta admit that having a guard-monster is an awesome plan. Once he's trained right, Snuggles can _protect_ Serah. Can't believe I didn't think of doing this before!" Snow's outright enthusiasm made Lightning's stomach turn a little, but some part of her was pleased that his project might actually do something useful for her tiny, defenseless sister.

_Guess I get to play overseer. That bird is getting trained properly._

As if he had read her thoughts, Hope chimed in. "Don't worry. I'm going to help with the training – not that I've done this before or anything, but two heads are better than one, right?"

"Yeah! That's what I wanted to hear!" Snow exclaimed, getting more excited by the minute and slapping Hope on the back.

"_Not_ an invitation to use the hangar. All training will be conducted outside – no exceptions," Hope added, with a stern edge. Lightning could tell from the way he spoke that he had every intention of sticking by his policy, using any means necessary, and it gave her a weird feeling of déjà vu.

_Oh. __That__'__s __what _I _sound __like. __Crap._

Sazh finally ended up taking charge of the little group of former l'Cie. "Alright guys, let's get a move on. It's gettin' dark already – won't do any good to show Light around the base if it's pitch black out."

They started down the stone path into what appeared to be ruins of some long-forgotten Pulsian city. "So, does this place have a name?" Lightning asked plainly.

"Not that we know of," Hope replied, looking disappointed in his answer. "If Fang and Vanille were here, I'm sure they could help."

A dark cloud settled over everyone at the mention of their lost friends, and Lightning considered the possibility that they may have been the last two Pulse natives left on the planet. If so, something bigger than two comrades was lost in the collapse of Cocoon.

"So…back to the tour," Sazh began, attempting to lift the mood. "If you follow that path to my right, it goes down to the hangar. There's a wider path from the landing for ships, but you'll probably never use that one."

"We think the structure might have been some kind of assembly room for large machinery – the ceiling's about fifteen meters high, and it has a bunker underneath," Hope added, obviously proud of his workplace.

"Heh, bunker. Yeah right. It's pretty much Hope's man-cave. Except no other dude's allowed in there," Snow quipped. "Defeats the purpose of having one."

The concept of a "man-cave" was lost on Lightning, but Hope clearly took exception to the comment – his face was nice and pink again, obvious even in the dim evening light. He seemed to be concentrating on his footsteps.

"So I like my privacy. Not everyone wants to be constantly surrounded by a mob," Hope defended in a quiet voice, but there was a flicker of animosity underneath.

"Normally I could see the benefits, but you don't let chicks in there either. That would be reason enough for me – otherwise, it seems like a waste," Snow rambled on, clueless to the fact that anger was roiling under the surface of Hope's calm, albeit rosy, exterior.

Lightning had been around him enough to know the feeling in the atmosphere when Hope was bottling resentment towards Snow – the first leg of her journey with him had been peppered with outbursts of pent-up rage. This was one of those times, and she could have cut the tension with her gunblade. Even if Lightning hadn't recognized that fact, she was already set to defend Hope's right to privacy; years of her carefully crafted conversational shutdowns still had not put an end to the nosy inquiries of colleagues, friends _and_ family into her own private life.

"Drop it, Snow," Lightning said in a low voice, but with unquestionable authority, stopping him in his tracks and giving him the death glare. "I don't want to know _anything_ about _your_ personal life, and you'd be wise to stay out of other people's business. Now talk to Snuggles about the weather, or shut it."

Hope went wide-eyed at her intervention, blushing even more deeply, but he immediately composed himself, roughly raked a hand through his hair and looked squarely at Snow, forcibly controlling his irritation to the point that it came off as mild impatience.

"Let's just get on with the tour. At this rate we're going to need a flashlight before we make it to Serah's," Hope said tersely. He turned silently and started walking ahead of the other three.

"As I was about to say," Sazh began, a little shaken by the tension as he started off behind Hope, "that building ahead on the right side is just equipment storage. Most of the room is underground; this city really favored basements. Serah's has one too, and she recently got a kitchen set up down there."

"Nice," Light replied, distracted with concern for the taller figure staying a few steps ahead of them, avoiding further conversation as he slunk in the lengthening shadows of some abandoned buildings. Minutes passed as they made their way down the darkening streets, hearing only the crunch of gravel and distant cries of the wildlife.

"We're getting pretty close to home," Snow commented, breaking the silence. "Looks like Serah kept the lights on for me!" He was trying to sound cheerful, but Lightning could tell he really felt bad about hitting a sore spot with Hope. She knew that sometimes Snow's mouth ran a marathon while his brain was asleep at the starting line, and she hoped his brotherly relationship with Hope was such that they would patch things up quickly.

"This is where all of us live, at least when we're not on missions," Sazh began as they approached a street lined with a cluster of old stone buildings on either side, obviously the homes of this Pulsian city's downtown.

"Most of the structures were in good condition when we got here – just needed renovations to the interior. The only destroyed building here in this sector is that one toward the end," Sazh said, pointing down the long row of dark homes to a wide gap, where the roof and front wall were completely collapsed. There was a large sign in front of the space with a bold, black "CONDEMNED" written on it, and only one building beyond.

"The place on the end is mine," Hope added from a few paces ahead, finally speaking up after several minutes of silence.

"Yep, and this one coming up on the right is Serah's," Sazh finished.

Other than the light shining at the door to Serah's place and a dim glow from Hope's window farther down the street, everything seemed deserted, and it piqued Lightning's soldier sense to be aware of potential danger. "Why isn't anyone here?" she asked, legitimately concerned for their safety.

"Oh yeah, forgot it was Friday," Snow said casually, as if he expected her to understand, and it was the most normal thing in the world. "Lebreau keeps the pub open later on Fridays – pretty much everyone's down there right now."

"We can tour the commercial area of the base in a day or two," Sazh said, checking his watch and walking toward the light. "I radioed ahead, and Serah wanted to cook dinner, so she's expecting us in about…three minutes now."

"That would have been nice to know," Lightning responded, slightly annoyed at the lack of punctuality. In her estimation, "on-time" was ten minutes early. She hustled after Sazh, and the two caught up to Hope, who was already ringing the doorbell. Snow and Snuggles hung back, just behind the cluster of guests at the door.

Lightning heard the sound of latches clicking, and her heart raced at the thought of finally seeing her sister, this time not as a crystal, but as she remembered her – vibrant and cheerful. The door swung open, and Serah immediately launched herself at Hope, gripping him in a bear-hug with her tiny arms. "So you finally came to visit! Sazh has been on your case for weeks!" she squeaked. Her little mouth was going a mile a minute. "I knew about the mission, but Snow never skipped dinner, even when they had that emergency trip to resupply," she chattered, at this point pulling both Hope and Sazh into the door by the arms. Neither was getting a word in edgewise.

Once they were through the door and in the little sitting room, Serah came back, calling for Snow. When she reached the threshold, Lightning was standing there speechless, filled with relief and on the verge of tears. Serah looked very much the same, even with the passage of time. Only her eyes betrayed the change – maturity and experience had edged out much of the wide-eyed innocence Lightning remembered. She felt the familiar pang of regret mingled with the happiness at seeing her sister.

_I missed five years. I wasn't there for her for five years._

Serah gasped, but didn't say a word. She walked up to Lightning with a look of utter disbelief, then wrapped her arms around her big sister and squeezed. As Lightning returned the embrace, she heard little sniffles coming from Serah, and felt a wet spot spreading on her shoulder.

"I knew it couldn't be much longer," Serah sobbed, struggling to form words. "Everyone else came back – we were all just… waiting."

After a minute or two, it sounded like Serah's tears had subsided, and when she pulled back, Lightning was overjoyed to see her smiling again. She returned the favor with her tiny smile, hardly a change from the norm, but Lightning knew Serah could see all the joy she was feeling. It was a sister thing.

"I don't understand the way crystalstasis works. Not sure why I didn't wake up a lot sooner," Lightning said sadly, looking down at the tiny hands she now held in her own. They were calloused from use – the wear and tear of life taking its meager toll.

"Better late than never! We're just lucky you're here with us now," Serah beamed, leading Lightning into the sitting area where Sazh and Hope sat staring toward the two. They had evidently been waiting to witness the reunion, and it was smiles all around for a moment.

Then Snow made his grand entrance, tripping on the rug in the entryway and nearly knocking Lightning over from behind. She dodged to the left, and he landed flat on his face in the middle of the floor. He rolled over, propped himself up on his elbows and looked up at Serah.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Snow said with a wink, sounding cocky as usual.

This earned him eye-rolls from everyone and a laugh from Serah, who extended a hand to help him up. Snow took it as a gesture of thanks, but stood entirely on his own strength. Lightning made a mental note of it, and within herself she forgave him for the wyvern incident from before out of appreciation.

As if feeling the reprieve, Snuggles let out a loud "RRRAAAKKK!" from outside, and Serah jumped a foot in the air. "What on Pulse was _that_?" she exclaimed, looking directly at Snow with a watered-down version of the death glare. Lightning secretly called it the "doom glare," because there was a set time-delay for the wrongdoer to defend himself before 'death' actually descended. Handled properly, one could get back in Serah's good graces with a speedy and acceptable response.

Snow had years of practice. "That's just some monster bird I'm gonna train to protect you," he said calmly. "I named him Snuggles the Dastardly. It was Light's idea, so I'm sure it'll work out great."

_You crafty devil._

If there was one person granted amnesty from Serah's vengeance, it was Lightning. Snow had easily shifted the blame, and the soldier was not the type to make excuses for her actions, even if it _had_ been Snow's fault for letting the creature into the ship in the first place.

"Really, Sis?" Serah gave her a doubtful look, hands on her hips and head cocked to one side.

Lightning nodded once. "Yeah, it was. I'm going to personally make sure he trains it right, or I'll kill the thing myself." She narrowed her eyes at Snow in warning, and then looked back at Serah. "Hope said he wanted to help, too."

"Okay, I guess that could work," Serah said reluctantly. "Should be a fun challenge for all of you." In the end, she smiled, then cheerfully announced, "Dinner's downstairs. Let's go eat before it gets cold."

The group of friends filed down the narrow staircase, Serah in the lead. They sat around the small wooden table in the center of the basement; dinner plates were already out for each person, save one. Lightning was an unexpected guest, so Serah first went to the kitchen counter and arranged another plate, which she promptly set out for her sister. With that taken care of, everyone thanked the hostess for the beautiful dinner.

"It really is artistic," Hope said with his crooked grin, inspecting the colorful array of food on the plate. "Installing your kitchen was one of the most worthwhile projects we did this year."

"Oh yes! Light, you should know that all the guys had a hand in setting up the kitchen, and Lebreau helped me decorate," Serah said excitedly. "Honestly, though, Hope kinda got the short end of the stick with the work, but no one else knows how to do all the wiring and plumbing quite as perfectly as he does." She was openly complimentary, chewing her food and smiling all the while.

Hope just blushed at Serah's doting, picking at his food but not really eating. Lightning was not sure if he just didn't feel hungry or couldn't eat while embarrassed.

"Good to know you had lots of help," Lightning said, lessening the focus on Hope to give him some breathing room. She took another bite. "And I'm relieved to find out that someone in our family can actually cook."

Serah started giggling, and soon the whole gang was laughing along with her. Lightning even let out a small, throaty laugh.

"If you ever tried, I'm sure you could do it too, Light," Serah insisted, the giggles dying down. "Now that you're here, I have every intention of teaching you."

_Ha. That's a lost cause._

"No thanks. If I burned down your new kitchen, I could never forgive myself," Lightning replied dryly, sending Serah into another fit of airy giggles.

"Don't worry so much," Hope interjected, smiling mischievously. "There's an emergency sprinkler system overhead, and fire extinguishers installed on both ends of the counter, just in case that doesn't cut it."

Everyone broke into laughter again, and this time even Lightning couldn't help but join in. Her stomach ached from the force of real enjoyment, and she felt more at ease after letting her guard down.

They ate and chatted for what seemed like hours before everyone had finished with their plates, which meant that all but Hope's were clean. Lightning was beginning to be a little concerned about his eating habits.

"Before we clean up, we've got to decide on where to get you settled, Sis," Serah said thoughtfully, wiping her hands on a napkin. "There's an empty room connected to our building, if you'd like to stay close." She seemed so hopeful, and Light felt certain that there would be no way to turn down the offer.

_I love my sister, but I'd rather not find out about how she spends the afterhours in a household with Snow, not to mention the new pet. Guess I can kiss peace and quiet goodbye. _

Just before she had a chance to reply, Hope calmly spoke up in opposition. "I'm not sure that's the best thing… for Light, I mean," he began, earning odd looks from everyone at the table but Lightning herself, who hoped to goodness that he could see the relief she felt at finding an alternative, whatever it might be.

"What are you talking about? I can't think of anywhere else," Snow said, clearly lost.

Lightning could see the gears turning in Hope's head. She was sure he had a feasible plan.

"Well, first of all, the place next door isn't fully furnished yet, and secondly, Snuggles is probably going to be a noisy pest for a while. Since I don't ever really use my place, she could just stay there." Hope finished his little spiel, taking a drink of water and trying to ignore the variety of expressions on everyone's faces.

"What?" Serah spoke up first, looking confused. "What do you mean by 'don't ever really use' the place?"

"Well, it's just that – nevermind." Hope took a breath, ditching the roundabout method. "I haven't set foot in there for several weeks. That's what I mean."

"Where do you actually live, then? The light was always on, and you're always busy anyway, so I just thought you were out when I visited." She was legitimately distraught.

"You know I'm always working on stuff, so I stay in the hangar basement," Hope explained. "It's really not a big deal."

"Man, I thought I told you not to hole up in that bunker," Sazh said, pinching the bridge of his nose in mild frustration at what was clearly news to him. "Everyone thinks you're dead or lost when you disappear for days like that. It's the reason we agreed that you'd stay in the building at the end of the street, not so far away from – well, you know, everything and everybody." It seemed like Sazh had meant something more, but Lightning was not prepared to jump into the discussion.

"I know, it just got so inconvenient," Hope tried to explain, but he looked guilty about making everyone worry.

Lightning wanted to resolve the issue somehow, while still taking Hope up on his offer. She rapidly thought it through and finally came up with a workable idea.

"I know what we can do."

"Let's hear it, by all means," Sazh said impatiently.

"Right. Hope, I'd prefer to stay at your place, but on one condition." All eyes looked to Lightning in anticipation, and Hope seemed a little nervous.

"What's your condition?" he asked, eyes full of curiosity, but with apprehension in his voice.

She got right to the point. "Every other week, you have to switch residences with me, and I'll stay in the hangar while you stay up here. Deal?"

Lightning extended a hand, and Hope hesitantly took it, shaking it once. "Deal," he agreed. "But you should know that the hangar doesn't exactly have much in the way of comfort," he qualified, clearly seeking some wiggle room in the arrangement.

"You know better than to think that matters to me," Lightning replied bluntly, but she was intrigued that Hope was still fighting to maintain his workaholic lifestyle. It presented a challenge for her to have a positive impact on him for once.

In that moment, Lightning saw a resistance to her tenacity pass over Hope's face; his eyes steeled with resolve and he crossed his arms with an air of defiance, again displaying that curious little smirk.

"You'll see what I mean," he said coolly, standing and gathering his plate, then holding out his hand to take everyone else's dishes. All of the others seemed to oblige him like this was the norm, so Lightning gave up her plate as well, and Hope took the stack to the sink and started washing.

_Well that's new. Serah's got it made with the non-hired help._

Lightning felt somewhat useless, and she was compelled to get involved instead of just sitting there while Hope continued to prove himself indispensible. She started to get up, but Snow beat her to the draw and began drying dishes and putting them away.

"Don't worry about it, Light," Snow said, turning to give her an optimistic thumbs up. "You just got here, and you're the guest of honor. I would tell Hope to buzz off, but I learned a long time ago to just let him be." Snow gave him a playful elbow to the ribs and went back to work. Hope returned the jab and kept at his task without missing a beat.

_Maybe I'm more transparent than I thought._

"Fine," Lightning sighed, relenting. She still gave the room a visual sweep for any possible chores that could be done, but Serah didn't give her the time to make any moves.

"It's getting pretty late. Come out back with us – we have a sort of yard, and you still need to meet someone," Serah said brightly, grabbing her sister by the arm and practically dragging her up the stairs and out a back door. Sazh was close behind.

Out back, the little yard area was enclosed by a crumbing wall; it looked as though the enclosure was once another structure attached to the back of the standing building. In the far corner stood a fairly large chocobo, and next to it was a young boy – whom Lightning thought looked like a miniature Sazh – grooming the giant bird's feathers.

"Hey, Dad!" Dajh shouted, waving and running up to Sazh for a quick hug. He smiled at Serah, then turned and gave Lightning a funny look before finally making the connection. "Are you Serah's big sister?" he asked innocently.

"Yeah. I'm Light," she replied, impressed that the boy had grown so tall as a ten-year-old. He looked very different from the pictures she had seen in Sazh's control room.

"Serah talks about you all the time," Dajh said, looking inquisitive. "And so does Hope. He said he would have died if you hadn't taught him to fight," he rattled on, wide-eyed with wonder. "Can you teach me, too? I've never gotten to use a knife."

"Well, I uh," Lightning began, feeling a little tongue-tied and honestly wondering what kind of a super-soldier she'd been built into by Dajh's imagination. She struggled, but promptly got her bearings. "I'm sure you could do better. Hasn't your dad given you training? Or Snow? They have a lot of experience," she offered, not really in the mood to take on that kind of project, and definitely not wanting to corrupt Sazh's kid with her intense survival regimen.

_Besides, that fro would be a serious safety hazard._

"I asked, but everyone's always too busy," he said, looking downcast in a way that reminded Lightning a little of the younger Hope. "And Snow doesn't _do_ weapons, so the last time I trained with him, he just taught me some boxing moves and then body-slammed me into the couch. Dad won't let Snow train me anymore." At that point a little pout had developed, but Lightning was immune to pouting. She wanted to tell the kid to suck it up. Thankfully, Sazh was already on it.

"That's why we started training the chocobo, right Dajh?" he chimed in with his 'dad voice,' and his son smiled and moved on.

_Short attention spans are a blessing in disguise._

"I named him Chaz. It was Dad's idea," Dajh proudly announced, stroking the side of his huge yellow companion, which by now had sauntered over to the group.

It was hard to believe that Chaz had once been Sazh's hair decoration. Now he was big enough to provide Dajh with a reliable means of transport. Lightning noticed the little saddle hanging on the outside of a tiny stable nearby and smiled to herself as she pictured the boy and his chocobo riding through town.

Something else was on her mind though, and she wanted to address it before the thought was simply forgotten. "Serah," Lightning said, turning to her sister, "why didn't Dajh come in for dinner?" There was concern in her voice, and she was partially suspicious that an eating disorder epidemic might be in the works after observing Hope.

"Oh, that's nothing," Serah said dismissively. "He ate a late lunch and wanted to ride around for a while. I just told him to be back in the yard by nine. He's really responsible for his age." She patted Dajh's fro and he swatted at her hand in pretended annoyance. "You'll mess it up, Serah!"

Lightning was impressed at how easily her sister took to raising everyone around her, fiancée included, like it was the most natural thing in the world. It gave her a feeling of nostalgia.

"I think you're doing a better job at the whole 'mom' thing than I did, Serah," Lightning said quietly. "Seems like this place revolves around you." Compliments weren't really her forte, but she had five years to make up for, and she didn't plan on skimping when it came to her sister.

"Nah, I'm just so likable," Serah joked, playing it off. "To tell you the truth, this place sort of revolves around Hope, and I don't mean that in some mushy, inspirational way – I mean Hope the _person_. You'll see that soon enough," she said, pride and a little sadness in her eyes and voice. Lightning got the impression that Serah had been heavily involved in Hope's life for some time, much like the strange sibling/mother relationship that she had developed with her little sister after their parents died.

"I wish he would let other people take on more of the work. Hope really needs a better system for maintenance orders, or at least a bigger message box. It filled up again last week, and the guys in building nineteen just ended up radioing me!" Serah added, laughing lightly and pulling Lightning back toward to house, leaving father and son to fuss over Chaz and catch up on the events of the day.

"I'm sure Hope and Snow are done with the dishes by now, maybe even the whole kitchen," Serah predicted, adding with a bright smile, "Those guys can do just about anything."

Lightning was beginning to suspect that if she didn't get some quiet time to process the last few hours' worth of information, her head was going to explode.

_So, Hope is basically some tech-guru version of me, Serah has adopted a small village, and Snow actually cleans. How the hell am I going to catch up?_

* * *

Doing dishes was one of those perfectly mind-numbing chores that didn't require Hope to process anything at all for the space of about ten minutes. To secure that brief time of blissful detachment, he had taken over dish duty for years.

_I don't want to hear myself think, I really just want to NOT think._

Much to his dismay, Snow jumped in to dry the dishes, rattling off something, and Hope felt an elbow to the ribs, reflexively elbowing back and attempting to tune out the room entirely. He soon gave up spacing in favor of trying to mentally review dinner, because only intense neural activity had a chance at drowning out Snow's presence.

Thinking back on his actions, Hope was happy to have spared Lightning the displeasure of staying next to the Villiers Petting Zoo, even if that little deal was going to present problems on too many levels. Hope had been angry about Snow's "man-cave" speech, but what he had said was more or less true. No one else went into the bunker, and the last person Hope wanted in there was Lightning.

What he was justifiably concerned about – and he refused to even tell Serah or Sazh of its existence – was his stash of rare components that he kept stored in the bunker for uses known only to himself. They were sorted very carefully, by model of the original weapon they were compatible with. He had a section for Sazh's various pistols, his own boomerang, and most importantly, Lightning's gunblade. Her little compartment was filled to overflowing, but he knew that once that weapon was unleashed again, it would need maintenance, and there never seemed to be enough parts to go around.

Hope was certain that Lightning would recognize components for her own weapon, and he would need to put them in a secure location once he got to the hangar. He didn't want to go through some embarrassing discussion about why he had been obsessively hoarding parts for a weapon that was frozen in crystal for years, when many of their Guardian Corps allies used the same kind of standard issue gunblades as hers.

Other problems with Lightning staying in that bunker included clutter. Projects tended to follow Hope into his quarters, sometimes even covering the entire floor _and_the bed, but he was familiar with the system of organized chaos inside and out, down to the stash of mismatched bolts. The area would have to be cleaned, and he knew that the final result would be the loss of some precious parts, once he inevitably forgot where they had been relocated.

_Ugh. __Why __couldn__'__t __she __just __stay __at __the _clean _place? __They __all __just __want __to __prove __that __my __preferred __space __is __unlivable. __It__'__s __only __unlivable __to _other _people, __so __why __should __it __matter __if _I _live __there?_

Hope was down to the last teacup. He had already washed it twice, but he wanted more time to think. The room was empty except for Snow, who, lacking anyone else to bother, interrupted Hope's agonizing mental dilemma.

"Hey, hand over that cup before you scrub the paint off it," Snow said, easing into conversation with the grace of a bull in a china shop. He grabbed the cup from Hope, shocking him out of his state of contemplation, and gave the final dish a quick dry before putting it away and slamming the cabinet door.

"Why do you always have to be so abrasive?" Hope muttered while he hastily wiped his hands on a towel, annoyed at both Snow and the loss of his train of thought, in that order.

_Think I feel a headache coming on. Perfect._

"Geez, sorry," Snow apologized, raising his hands and backing away from the sink area. He then lowered his arms and stuffed his fists in his coat pockets. "Seriously though, I am sorry – I mean, for all that stuff I said on the way over," he said quietly, staring down at his Cocoon medallion. "Didn't realize that bunker thing was so important to you."

"It's not a big deal," Hope replied, sighing tiredly and offering a small smile. Even a clumsy attempt from Snow at making amends was appreciated, and Hope's irritation dissipated like morning fog.

"I just like my space, and sometimes I get the impression that you enjoy humiliating me because I'm not some social butterfly. _That_ was what set me off," he explained.

"Yeah, I do kinda give you crap sometimes. Just give me a good sock in the eye if it happens again," Snow suggested, pumping his fist in affirmation.

"Thanks, but that's not really my style," Hope said earnestly, pushing in chairs. "I'm sure Light would take you up on the offer in a heartbeat, though," he teased, but he and Snow exchanged a look of mutual acknowledgment in the truth behind that statement, and Snow laughed. Hope grinned and shrugged, then glanced at his watch to gauge how much time he might actually get to straighten up his workshop once everything had been settled.

_Wow, it's really not that late, but I already feel like collapsing. Gotta stay awake._

Hope knew one sure-fire way to solve the problem, and possibly subdue his developing headache. "Coffee time," he announced, rushing back to the counter to plug in the pot, and then getting the bag of grounds from the cupboard.

"Whoa, Hope. Not sure it's _that_ exciting," Snow commented, but Hope was too focused to respond.

"Didn't I tell you to avoid caffeine at night the _last_ time you came?" Serah scolded, shooting Hope a little glare as she stepped back into the kitchen. Lightning was right behind her at the bottom of the stairs, a questioning look on her face as she stumbled upon the situation. Hope saw through Serah's chastisement to the masked concern in her eyes, and he really didn't want to get into some medical discussion with a certified medic in front of Lightning.

_My dignity isn't quite as shot as my cognizance, and I intend to keep it that way. I can work with this._

Hope made light of the reprimand, taking out the sugar and cream and smiling at Serah's mothering gesture. He finally leaned back against the counter with his hands in his pockets, prepared to defuse the potential argument. "You certainly did. I'll be sure to keep that in mind," he said respectfully, adopting the demeanor of an apologetic child.

Serah looked a little staggered from the lack of resistance, and she fumbled for a response, managing a meek, "Well, good to know you were listening." She seemed unsure how to react, apparently pleased at Hope's answer, but clearly puzzled at watching his actions unfold in blatant contradiction to her advice.

"Of course I remembered," Hope went on, exploiting a reawakened power over his adopted mom-figure, and he began pulling out some mugs.

"So, who else wants coffee?" He set the mugs down, grinning as he grabbed the grounds and shook them like a bag of treats. "Come on, guys – it's hazelnut." Hope's eyes were pleading, and he watched Serah's mouth lift into a tiny smile.

"Oh, whatever. Count me in," she said, losing all will to fight and taking a seat at the table. "Put lots of cream in mine."

"Not late enough to hit the sack anyway," Snow admitted, joining his fiancé at the table. "Same as Serah's – heavy on the cream."

Lightning had moved to the corner opposite the stairwell and was methodically wiping down her gunblade with a cloth, removing herself from the scene entirely. It bothered Hope that she seemed so aloof, continuing to maintain a safe distance from him. He knew that it was just her personality, and he also knew that calling attention to himself would probably backfire, but at that point, Hope was basically on auto-pilot.

"Want some, Light?" he asked her directly from across the room, and pulled down another mug from the cabinet.

"Some what?" she asked, having apparently tuned out the last few minutes of conversation. Lightning put away the gunblade and gave him that look she had which landed somewhere between confusion and aggravation, unresponsive to the snickers in her direction coming from Snow and Serah at the table.

Hope found that look to be strangely endearing.

"Coffee," he clarified, and he couldn't help but crack a smile, refraining from laughter and watching as Lightning shifted into a mode for consideration, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

"Sure," she said evenly as she looked Hope square in the eyes, resolutely crossing the room toward him. Lightning reached the counter, opened the coffee maker's basket and turned to face him, snatching the bag of coffee right out of his hands.

"I know how to do this. Take a break," she commanded, and her eyes were so icily insistent that it stunned Hope, and he needed a few seconds to register the turn of events.

He blinked, staring at his empty hands and then again at Lightning, whose face was now lower than his line of vision and, therefore, unavoidable. Hope weakly attempted to protest. "But I need to–"

"No. Sit," she said with finality.

"Okay," Hope said quietly, absolutely powerless to refuse. He awkwardly rubbed at the back of his head as he moved toward Serah and sank into the nearest chair, leaning his head on one hand and concentrating on the grain of the table.

_Didn__'__t __see _that _coming. __Guess __there __was __no __way __to __anticipate __Light __commandeering __the __coffee __pot._

Snow and Serah started making quiet conversation, something about the new cases in the medical clinic, but they didn't force Hope into the discussion, and he actually began to relax. Lightning had already put in the grounds and the water, and soon he was listening to the comforting sound and smell of percolation. Before long, Hope's hand refused to support his heavy head, and he finally just let it rest on the hard, wooden surface.

_Maybe a nap will do me some good._

When Hope finally regained awareness, he felt someone tugging on his shoulder, telling him to wake up in a firm, low voice.

_Light?_

His head felt like a lead brick, but he smelled the aroma of hazelnut and willed his eyes to open.

"Ngh, so sorry," Hope mumbled, slowly lifting his head and running his fingers unsteadily through his silver mess of hair, certain that it was out of control. "That's the second time I've fallen asleep on you today. I swear it's not an everyday thing." Hope stretched briefly, and then looked up at Lightning, feeling totally deflated after his failure to even remain conscious on her first day after awakening. He knew how pathetic he must have looked – there was undeniable concern written on her face.

Ever the pragmatist, Lightning motioned to a mug of coffee on the table, and asked him simply, "How do you want it?"

"Oh, right," Hope began, pressing between his eyebrows with a thumb and forefinger as he struggled momentarily to remember how he took his coffee.

"Just a little sugar. No cream."

"Got it," she said, turning to retrieve the sugar bowl and a spoon. Upon returning, Lightning dipped a half-spoonful out of the bowl and held it over the mug.

"Like this?" She looked so serious about getting it right that Hope smiled a little in amusement. Lightning wasn't typically so obliging, and he thought it was surprisingly sweet.

"Perfect," he said with sincerity, gently taking the spoon from her hand and stirring in the sugar himself. When Hope looked up again, she had already returned to the counter with the sugar bowl, hurriedly adding a little to her own coffee. He noticed with a sense of gratification that she, too, had skipped the cream.

As Lightning leaned against the counter, seemingly lost in thought and lightly sipping the hot beverage, Hope saw that her eyes were glazed over in noticeable exhaustion.

_Five years of sleep must not be as relaxing as it sounds. Wish I could help, but I'm not exactly an expert on recuperation. _

He took a drink of his coffee and concluded that the steam wafting into her face was magnifying the appearance of understandable fatigue. At that moment, Serah's ceramic mug smacked the table with a thud, splashing coffee on his arm and all over the table.

"Ugh, I just ruined my favorite shirt!" she cried in exasperation. "Hope, could you get me a damp cloth? Looks like I'll need another cup of coffee too, Sis." Serah and Snow were already on their feet, hastily sopping up the coffee on the table with their napkins before it could drain onto the floor.

"Sure," both Hope and Lightning replied in tandem, and he tried not to seem too eager while quickly moving to the sink, bending down to grab a hand towel from the cabinet underneath. Lightning was less than five feet to his left, preparing Serah's drink – Hope could see her gunblade from the corner of his eye, a regrettable distraction in hindsight. As he leaned back up, he banged his head on the edge of the countertop.

"Oww! Maker, I needed those brain cells," Hope muttered angrily under his breath, furiously rubbing the affected area, where a lump was beginning to form. Aggravated, he wet the cloth in the sink and rung it out.

As he turned, he saw that Lightning was watching him in her periphery while she added the cream, one eyebrow raised quizzically, but when he made direct eye contact, she immediately refocused on the coffee. Hope could have sworn that she looked rather flushed, but he was nowhere near prepared for the repercussions of vocalizing _that_ observation.

He promptly returned to his original objective, handing Serah the washcloth and taking the soaked napkins to the trash. A few minutes later, he finally settled back in to finish the cup of liquid energy, mentally reaffirming his determination to accomplish something before eventually passing out on an available surface, maybe a live circuit board if he wasn't careful.

Glancing at his watch again, Hope saw that it was getting late enough to infringe on his cleaning plans if he stayed much longer. Then again, he didn't want to seem rude to Serah by rushing out of the house after enjoying her hospitality. _And_ making coffee against her will. Coffee that stained her shirt.

_I am a terrible friend. Or clearly driven by sleep deprivation._

The solution hit him like a lug nut to the head, and he felt just as stupid at his own thick-headedness as he had last week from pushing that torque-wrench to the breaking point, snapping the bolt and sending the nut flying. All he'd needed to do, both then and now, was pull with the natural forces in motion.

_Light is clearly exhausted. Time to take her to my place._


	4. Things That You Doubt

A/N: So, another apology for the length of the chapter, but this time because it's kind of short :P The next one is more balanced, so hopefully things will stay fairly leveled out after this! Please, please, please review :D It reduces stress by thirty-seven percent (for me anyway!). Thanks so much to my regular reviewers – your comments have been immensely helpful!

Additionally, I included a term that took me some time to find, so I wanted to quickly annotate its definition so as to not give the wrong impression in the story. It's used for exaggeration – I am not suggesting that Light actually has the medical condition itself.

*Sociophobia: the fear of social gatherings, fear of socializing, or fear of embarrassment in social situations

Disclaimer: Square Enix owns it all. Good for them.

(revised 29SEP11)

Things That You Doubt

Lightning drank her coffee without a word, doggedly refusing to admit that she was ready to crash, or at least get away from everyone. She felt ashamed at the gnawing need for solitude after being absent for so long, but her introverted personality demanded its quota of processing time. The soldier knew things needed to wrap up before she had to take the initiative, which _always_ came off as brusque at best.

On top of exhaustion and, perhaps, mild sociophobia, she was troubled by the range of emotions Hope had displayed throughout the day. Had he not oscillated between such extremes – cool and collected one moment, a nervous wreck the next, and then completely unconscious – she would have written it off as hormonal. Unable to put her finger on a single source, she deduced that it was a combination of fatigue, situational pressure, and some other variable.

_Maybe that's where I should insert "hormones." No, too simplistic._

Just then, Serah's coffee cup hit the table, and chaos ensued. Making another cup of coffee was no issue, and everything else was being handled, so Lightning kept a keen eye on Hope's actions. Standing up after fishing around under the sink, he clumsily hit his head on the counter, and she assumed it was probably a coordination problem from rapid growth, or just more evidence of tiredness; however, he seemed overly perturbed for such a simple accident.

As he turned from the sink, rag in hand, Hope's eyes made contact with hers, and Lightning felt the force of a mix of emotions radiating from his green ones, the most prominent being embarrassment. It was like a nuclear reactor was constantly leaking through Hope's retina – the sensations were too raw. She abruptly went back to Serah's coffee, her face unexpectedly burning from exposure.

_He seriously needs rest. That has to be the main problem._

A faint, nagging voice in the back of her mind suggested that something more was involved, but Lightning's reasoning couldn't ignore the empirical evidence. She was determined to finish her coffee, and then get both of them out of there before she became foul-tempered or Hope passed out again, whichever came first. Protective instincts were obstinately hard to shake.

Just when it looked like Serah was prepped for another conversation, and Lightning was set to shut it down, Hope took the opportunity to say his piece.

"Hey, Serah, thanks for everything, but I think we need to get Light set up for the night – she looks about ready to crash." Lightning glared back at all their looks of concern, nonetheless grateful for a reprieve, and continued to sip her coffee. Downing the last of his own drink, Hope took his and Snow's mugs to the sink and washed them out, setting them aside to dry.

_You're one to talk, zombie-boy._

"It's just the post-awakening shut-down; we've all been there," Snow added, which actually did put Lightning's mind at ease, at least concerning herself.

"Alright, then," Lightning commented to herself. _The __faster __I __can __recover, __the __faster __I__'__ll __be __combat-ready._

She made it abundantly clear that she was ready to hit the road by marching up the stairs ahead of Serah in search of bedding. Discovering that she was really just in the way, she chose to wait outside, and Serah eventually came out the door with her empty-handed fiancé and a very much loaded-down Hope – the pile of sheets and blankets in his arms left only a silver tuft of hair visible at the top. Lightning insisted on taking some of the burden, and they said their goodnights to Serah and Snow.

A short, tangibly silent walk later, they stood outside the door to Hope's quarters. He shifted his load to one arm, and then fished around in a pocket and pulled out his keys.

"I apologize in advance for the dust; we'll need to open some windows and let everything air out," he said, fumbling with the lock for several seconds before hearing it click open.

Upon entering, the only light in the place was cast by a tiny solar lamp sitting on the front windowsill. Lightning considered that it might only serve the purpose of making the house look occupied.

Hope flipped on the light-switch in the main room, illuminating the very basic furnishings within – a small couch, armchair, and coffee table arranged in the center of the room, and a bookcase on the back wall. Everything was very tidy except for a thin accumulation of dust.

"So, you sleep on the couch?" Lightning asked plainly, as Hope raised the front windows. There were no other doors or stairs to additional rooms, and she guessed that the building was either smaller than it appeared, or these quarters were completely separate from other parts of the structure, like an apartment complex.

Hope gave her a wry smile. "Not so much. Let me show you the best feature of this place." He walked over to the bookcase, reaching around the right edge to flip out a small, metal bar not four inches long. He used the handle to swing the entire shelf open like a door, revealing a flight of steps to the basement.

The large, open room below was similar in structure to the one in Serah's home, minus a kitchen. It was clearly divided into two sections, one half with a bed and nightstand, the other with a desk, chair, and standing lamp. It did not, in fact, look like anyone actually lived there – minus the same thin layer of dust, not a stray scrap of clothing or paper was to be found, and the bed was neatly made.

Lightning was a little unnerved at the eerie feeling that always accompanied entering a place that seemed deserted, and she just stared at the bedroom for a minute, standing trancelike at the base of the stairs with blankets in hand.

Turning around, Hope waved a hand in front of her face. "Hey, you okay?"

Lightning blinked rapidly, coming back to reality. "Huh? Oh yeah, fine. Just seems strange here – empty, even with the furniture."

"True. Maybe that's what weirded me out too; I never did sleep here, not even once." He paused, obviously considering something and fidgeting with his keys before going on.

"So, anything else you need?" Hope inquired, trying to be helpful.

"I can survive in the wilderness with a knife. Pretty sure I'm all set," Lightning responded, not meaning to sound cold but wanting to hurry things along before the sleep-deprived grumpiness factor increased further.

Hope looked away for a moment, hand over his mouth, clearly smothering a chuckle. When he faced her again, he broke out in unreserved laughter at Lightning's cross expression.

"Wow…you haven't changed at all!" he said candidly, when the fit had subsided.

The soldier was set on edge by his sudden brazenness, and she turned away, arms folded. "What did you expect?" she said harshly, under her breath.

"Oh come on, I wasn't trying to insult your survival skills. Let me rephrase: Anything else you _want_, Light?" Hope asked again, this time outright teasing her, and she felt a fleeting desire to slap the smirk off his face.

_Wait, I would never hurt Hope. I need to get a grip._

Lightning sighed, frustrated with her own uncharacteristic lack of self-control. Getting riled up over harmless banter was not professional, and it was unacceptable.

"No, nothing. Really," she replied, willingly softening her tone. "I _want_ to go to bed. Now."

"W-well, just give me a minute to fix things," Hope said unsteadily, his expression enigmatic. He rushed over to the bed and began stripping off all the old covers and sheets, tossing pillows to the side. Lightning immediately followed suit, carrying all the new bedding over to him, and they made quick work of getting everything straight.

"Should be all set," Hope concluded. "Bathroom's through that door, and there's a mini-fridge next to the desk – just a few water bottles in there, though. Sorry about the umm, lack of amenities." He sounded genuinely apologetic.

"Not a problem. If I need food, I can go to Serah's," Lightning said, trying to make him feel better. "Thanks for letting me stay here, by the way. It's quiet enough that I may actually get some sleep." She offered a smile in gratitude, and Hope smiled a little shyly in return.

"Sure hope so. Anyway, I should probably get going," he said, letting out a barely audible sigh. "See you later, then?" He took the house key and held it out for her to take.

As Lightning got hold of the key, she found herself pulled into an impromptu hug. The suddenness of it, coupled with a renewed astonishment over the obvious physical difference in Hope, completely disabled her ability to react at all. In her mind, she had held his scrawny, adolescent form against her shoulder just weeks before, if that, and now she was gently pressed against _his_. The memory reminded Lightning of that closeness, and as the shock subsided, she wrapped her arms around his waist, taking comfort in something not so foreign to her as the rest of their new existence.

_Now I can sleep._

* * *

Hope's alarm clock was buzzing insistently in the background of his otherwise empty head. The sound morphed into a dream, once again flashing back to battles with a swarm of enemies, Lightning at his back. He let his boomerang fly with superb accuracy and heard the satisfying "thunk" of a direct headshot, the crunch of metal, the clatter of shattering glass…

_Oh crap._

Hope's eyes snapped open, bloodshot and puffy, and he half-rolled off the bed and knelt down on the floor to observe the damage. He was only sorry that he hadn't caught the time before flinging the boomerang in his sleep. Kneeling over the mangled scrap of what was once a clock was the perfect way to start the day after an exhausting night of grunt-work in the hangar.

Two pieces of toast and a HAZMAT shower (commandeered for personal use) later, Hope was already dressed in coveralls and methodically ripping the guts out of the underbelly of the ship and removing all four of the lower thruster pods. It sucked royally, but he was quite sure that the reason behind the output control malfunction was in a specific type of regulator valve in the fuel line leading to the pods, and it was impossible to know where along the line it was happening and which pods were affected without pulling out _everything_.

Yuj and Maqui had dropped off the remains of a similar Pulsian model ship's engine, thrusters intact, sometime that morning, and Hope was thrilled to find that the components were a match to the model they had originally installed on _Bartholomew_. He had a promising project, and all his friends were together – everything was almost perfect.

_I just wish Dad was here to see how far we've come._

* * *

End Note: Please advise on what the difference is between the K+ and T ratings, b/c I have material coming up that I'm uncertain about (and no, it's not sexual, so I don't want anyone getting all giddy!). Thanks!


	5. Take This Time

A/N: In honor of my 2-year anniversary in the Navy, I decided to post the next chapter ahead of schedule :D Hope it will make amends for the shortness of my last post, and start everyone's weekend off peachily. Please review - I promise it will only serve to improve the upcoming chapter, and all the reviews so far have been awesome :D

I borrowed the characters/names of three familiar faces from FFX-2, just because they seemed like what I was looking for in the unfilled positions in my own story, so if you happen to be one of the avid haters of that particular game, don't attack me or anything - this is solely based on convenience :P

Disclaimer: Square Enix owns it all, and Hope is probably making them a lot of money.

(revised 30SEP11)

Take This Time (to figure it out)

Halfway down the street, in what appeared to be the central command area of the base, Lightning was amazed at the number of Guardian Corps soldiers bustling around. They were hauling crates, cleaning weapons, and playing cards – it gave her a feeling of belonging to know that they were all on the same side again.

It had been two days, and true to Sazh's word, Serah was giving her the rest of the tour; her little sister had practically written the guidebook. In the space of five blocks, Lightning had already met more military families and seen more convenience shops than ever before.

_Or ever again, so help me. Civilians give me a headache._

"I know you hated the residential and commercial stuff, but you're gonna love my clinic! It's over there, with the red door," Serah said excitedly, all but dragging Lightning toward the low, stone building. Its door was the only distinguishing factor, with the word "MEDICAL" painted in white block letters on the front.

Inside, the tiny waiting area was full of people sitting on a few rows of benches that somehow fit into the cramped space, and Lightning could see into the back room where a number of cots already held patients. The place reeked of disinfectant and disease: a typical field clinic.

Serah had already struck up a conversation with the doctor on shift. "I'm sorry you got stuck with so many cases, Ann," she said quietly to the middle-aged woman behind the desk, and when she stood, her gray-streaked bun barely came above Serah's shoulder.

"What's one day off when your only sibling has come back! This is Lightning, am I right?" Ann's high-pitched voice barely suppressed her excitement as she studied the soldier through her rather thick spectacles. After getting a good look, her cheery smile turned into a pensive frown.

Ann pulled Serah down to whisper sternly in her ear. "Did you bring her to check in? Seriously, what have you been feeding her? She's awfully pale, you know."

Lightning was tired of being third party to the discussion, and decided to interject before the dull throbbing in the back of her head began to intensify from annoyance.

"Actually, she's showing me around. Didn't sleep well last night, but I'm fine," Lightning said plainly.

_That much is true. Near comatose sleep isn't too relaxing when it's full of nightmares, and neither is waking from them in a creepy, windowless room._

"But I thought you were pretty much out cold since the night before last," Serah pressed, adopting the same expression as her colleague. "You were unconscious every time I checked on you, anyway."

Under the scrutinizing gaze of both women, Lightning knew she would have to explain, and she hated explaining things, period.

"Tch, I _did_ crash right after Hope left, but I'm not exactly adjusted to a 'normal' sleep regimen. That's it."

"Maybe today wasn't the best day for a tour. We could always go home, Sis," Serah offered sheepishly.

"No. It isn't every day that I can sit in on a briefing," Lightning replied, checking her watch. "We should be going now – need to be on time." She was already heading out the door.

Lightning had led the way for less than a minute before realizing that she had no idea where to go, so she slowed down to let Serah pass.

"Still in a hurry," Serah huffed, pulling Lightning's arm in the correct direction and walking on. "So typical."

When they arrived at the basement entrance of a painfully nondescript, two-storey building, Lightning did everything in her power to refrain from giving the two Guardian Corps sentries looks of disdain while Serah identified herself. They were clearly enjoying the privilege of screening their superior in both rank and experience.

"Sorry, but we have orders to confiscate all weapons before entry. No exceptions," one of the peon sentries said with a smirk, and Lightning was more annoyed with his tone than with having to relinquish her gunblade, which was a rare occurrence.

"Fine. I know _exactly_ how many scratches are on this thing, and if I find even one more, you _will_regret it," she warned, whipping the weapon from its holster with flair and momentarily aiming it squarely at the unsuspecting soldier's throat. He staggered back and raised his weapon to react, but Lightning simply collapsed her blade into its gun form and handed it over with a triumphant grin.

Snow stood waiting for them in the narrow hallway, outside the door to the actual briefing room. Lightning couldn't remember the last time he had been early for anything, and her estimation about the importance of this particular meeting went up a notch.

"Took you two long enough," he said, grinning and throwing an arm around Serah's shoulders before heading into the room. "Got some introductions to make."

Inside, about a dozen people were standing around a long table covered in maps and various reports, among them Sazh, Gadot, Yuj, and Maqui, as well as several higher ranking Guardian Corps soldiers, one of whom Light recognized immediately as the former commanding officer above the direct supervisors of hers and several other patrol regiments from the sector on Cocoon that included Bodhum.

_Nooj, wasn't it? Hard to miss a man with a mechanical leg and a five-foot-long ponytail._

She followed Snow and Serah to the table, and everyone's eyes instantly focused on her. "Hey, Lightning! Glad you made it," Sazh called out, making her feel more welcome and less like a target. "It's about time you got to know the brains behind this operation."

The next few minutes were a flurry of brief introductions, salutes, and general military hullabaloo. Lightning's former commander, Major Nooj, recognized her straight away, and the others all seemed to have some idea of who she was and what she had done for Cocoon as both soldier _and_ l'Cie.

"I think you'll find the setup here at the base very familiar, Sergeant Farron; it's merely a simplified version of old Guardian Corps infrastructure. All rebel military operations have been divided into combat and defense, reconnaissance and intelligence, and weapons and technology," the major explained. "I have control over combat and defense – it fits better with my background. Lieutenant Baralai and Lieutenant Gippal direct the other two divisions, respectively."

"If that's the case, I assume I will be under your command again, Sir," Lightning said respectfully.

"Correct. I look forward to working with a more experienced subordinate," he said unaffectedly, motioning for everyone to take a seat. "Now that we are all here, let's begin the briefing with an overview of our recent operations." He stood, holding the detailed report in his hand and adjusting his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose.

"As you are all aware, our latest mission to the PSICOM outpost in the settlement's outskirts was highly successful. The proof is sitting among us." He looked directly at Lightning, as did everyone else, and she managed a nod of appreciation, grateful that the major appeared to be moving on.

"Since beginning operations here in the southwestern ruins three years ago, what few retaliatory attacks have come from PSICOM have had little or no impact on us, and manpower losses have totaled less than two dozen, excluding medical cases of course. On the flip side, strategic missions to infiltrate their bases have been largely successful, resulting in the recovery of all former l'Cie and most Guardian Corps soldiers being held for resistance to new PSICOM leadership. Our current force stands at nearly three thousand, including actively involved civilians."

Nooj started into the mind-numbing crunch of numbers and statistics, which did nothing for the persistent ache in the back of Lightning's head. She was relieved when he had finished his overview, and Lieutenant Gippal took the floor with updates on weapons capabilities and recent breakthroughs in technology adaptations through the integration of systems from Pulse with working knowledge of Cocoon mechanics. Lightning was happy to tune out, being both disinclined to listen to the cocky man with the eye patch as well as generally unable to follow the details, until a few key words caught her attention.

"…and Estheim trained under me for a while, since he had a knack for it. He may be the resident all-around expert, but some of that ability came from training under Maqui, here – he has an excellent background in engineering mechanics, and he's qualified to handle most troubleshooting on his own merit. That said, routine maintenance or low-priority fixer-upper jobs need to be routed through Maqui and his trainees, not, I repeat, _not_directly to Hope. That's not a personal stab at anyone in this room, I just want you to spread the word and nip this in the bud before the rebel forces kill off their own mechanic," Gippal said with a sharp grin, somehow still communicating the sternness of the message in his own unorthodox way.

"Alright, enough about my stuff – let's move on to intelligence and all its action-packed glory." The lieutenant plopped back down in his chair and leaned back, hands behind his head.

A dark-skinned man with decorative clothing and silver hair stood at the head of the table, ready to address the group. "As low-tech and simplistic as it may seem, scouting and surveying have been our most effective tools against PSICOM since establishing this base – they are the foundation for a large portion of our intel. That isn't to say that radio intercepts and other more high-tech methods aren't useful, but Pulse is completely foreign and devoid of an operational communications infrastructure, and I think I speak accurately when I say that our forces are more willing to get their hands dirty out on the field than PSICOM. I'm confident that we will be the first to locate the missing Cocoon evacuation ship from the landing, and the first to make contact with indigenous tribes, if they exist. Our maps are constantly being updated, and NORA has continued to spearhead the effort – something they had in place before I took over."

Lightning could see that Snow and his crew were basking in the acknowledgment from their superior, and she felt a little spark of pride for them before turning her attention back on the speaker.

"Our mission for the next three weeks is nothing out of the ordinary, and the objective is simple: explore the forested area adjacent to sectors 47 and 48, map it out, and continue to look for remnants of the missing evacuation ship and any survivors. Sazh will be running the transport, and I've selected you five soldiers to accompany NORA for protection while they survey the terrain, and also to serve as extra eyes to seek out anything of interest." Baralai acknowledged the handful of Guardian Corps members with a nod. "Preparations for departure begin on the training field at 0600 tomorrow. Since I'm sure none of you need a review on protocol, that concludes this brief. Any questions about the mission?"

No one spoke up, and Lightning was relieved that it was over. Her headache had begun to spike sharply every few minutes. She wanted to get out of there and get something to take the edge off, maybe dinner.

"Good, then. I'll see you all bright and early," Baralai said, gathering his materials and waving a dismissive hand at the table. Everyone dispersed and started into their own conversations, but Lightning didn't feel the need to engage in any of them.

"Ready to go, Sis?" When she looked up, large, blue eyes filled with concern were staring down into her face. Lightning failed to register that she had remained seated, with her aching head in her hands and mind on leave somewhere.

_Ha. Maybe this is what happened to Hope before._

"Yeah," she replied mechanically, willing herself to stand and salute the three divisional officers, then numbly following Serah, Snow, all the members of NORA, and Sazh out of the building and over a few streets to the commercial district. Through her mental haze, Lightning had a troubling sense that she had forgotten something, and when the group had reached the door to Lebreau's pub, it finally became clear.

_Those jerks still have my gunblade._

She swore under her breath, and it caught Sazh's attention.

"Geez, you step in chocobo crap?" he asked sincerely, waiting for the reply.

"Sentries took my gunblade, and I forgot to get it back," Lightning answered between clenched teeth, angry at her own irresponsibility.

"No worries – Hope should be on his way by now, and he'll pass right by the place. Let me just make a call." Sazh pulled out a rather bizarre version of a handheld transceiver, probably of Pulse origin. After a brief, static-filled conversation with Hope, Sazh put the device away and gave Lightning a reassuring clap on the shoulder.

"There you have it – nothin' to worry about. Now let's get inside before Snow gets antsy; he's convinced that they're gonna run out of palawan wings if he doesn't beat the rush," Sazh said lightheartedly, leading her into the noisy pub.

_If I'm lucky, the weird food will kill me before this headache does._

* * *

Hope was running late – and literally running, with Lightning's gunblade tucked under one arm. The thrusters had taken longer than expected to finish repairing, and Sazh's little detour request set him back even further, by virtue of the fact that those sentries didn't seem to understand the meaning of "urgent request" when it came to retrieving a military member's issued weapon. Fortunately, once Gippal had strolled out the door from the briefing room, it was a simple matter of pulling rank, with the added bonus of colorful castigation.

Catching his breath, Hope stood with a hand on the door to the Vestige, Lebreau's second successful establishment, praying that the entire room wouldn't notice his arrival and make a fuss. It didn't help that he was once again a mess after the jog over in the sticky humidity, disheveled hair and all. Opening the door just enough to step into the pub, he stumbled right into a tackling choke-hold from Snow.

_I really need to check a mirror and wipe off the "Hug Me" sign on my forehead._

"Finally! We ordered food half an hour ago," Snow bellowed above the louder sounds of chatter and clanking plates and mugs. "Hope you don't mind wings again!"

They were already squeezing their way to the table, and Hope was greeted by the laughter of several friends and a few new acquaintances. He took the empty seat on Lightning's right side, near the end of the table; strangely, she didn't acknowledge his presence and continued staring down into her glass of water. Serah looked across the table to him, glancing at her sister and shrugging. Whatever had gotten her down, he at least had the advantage of carrying the one item that might improve the situation.

"Hey Light, got your gunblade back, as promised," he said genially, sliding the weapon in its holster in front of her on the table.

She barely looked up, laying a hand on the hilt, and managed a quiet "Thank you." That was all; Lightning didn't even turn her head to look at him, and she went back to resignedly staring at the glass, silent and pale as a ghost.

Persistence was far from foreign to Hope, and he was compelled to get to the bottom of the issue. He reached over and moved the glass in front of himself, hoping to get Lightning's attention while avoiding directly addressing her, which would, from the looks of things, not end pleasantly. She merely refocused on the gunblade instead. Sighing, he gave in to the remaining option.

Hope leaned in close to her ear. "What's wrong?" he asked, loud enough that she would hear but not enough to get anyone else's attention. The food had arrived, and everyone was busy handing out plates and passing the platters around.

The silence coming from Lightning's direction was more deafening than the noise surrounding them. Hope took hold of the gunblade holster and moved it away from her, which finally elicited a response.

"I need that," she practically growled, making a pathetic attempt to grab onto the holster strap. Hope willfully set it on the floor, looking straight into her uncharacteristically clouded eyes. "Tell me what's wrong, first."

"Just a headache. Nothing to take my gunblade over," Lightning grumbled, turning away to lean her forehead on her hands and shielding her eyes from the comparably muted lights.

_Looks like a killer migraine. Still fixable._

"I'm sure Serah has medicine for that; why don't you take some with dinner?" Hope offered sympathetically, getting another plate and putting it in front of her. The wings were coming around, so he took a few and held the platter for her to do the same.

"I'm not hungry," Lightning responded, ducking her head even lower.

_Strike that idea._

"Fine," Hope relented, more worried than before at her behavior. "You can have this back, then, since you did answer me." He picked up the gunblade and held it to the side for her to take. When Lightning looked over to reclaim it, her face suddenly contorted with discomfort, and he was certain that she had turned a little green. She stood in a panic to leave the area, but lost her balance and fell right onto the lap of a very shocked Hope, who instantly dropped the gunblade in favor of catching its owner.

"I'm sorry," Lightning mumbled, pleading with her eyes to escape but unable to orient herself enough to get back up.

"I-It's okay," Hope said uneasily, trying to adjust her so that she wouldn't slide into the floor. She suddenly became very still, gripping the fabric of his t-shirt and covering her mouth with her free hand. She gulped out a quiet "Oh no…can't… stop it…"

…and promptly threw up on him.

Stunned, it took a few seconds for Hope to process the situation at hand – namely, that Lightning was, in fact, vomiting on his shirt – and jump to the task of holding her hair back with one hand and trying to shift her body out of the line of fire with the other. He was thankful that his own stomach had adapted a resistance to that sort of situation, and he blocked out the growing commotion at the table in light of the incident, concentrating instead on being a support.

_I __promised __to __try __and __watch __out __for __her, __but __I __never __imagined __it __like _this_._

After a couple of minutes, Lightning seemed to be calming down, the entire contents of her stomach apparently spent. She looked up for a moment from the splattered mess, clearly embarrassed and desperate to regain control of the situation as she glanced around at the hubbub spreading from their table throughout the room, and then again at his ruined shirt.

"I need to… clean this up," she choked out, her breathing ragged and irregular as she jerked away from Hope's steadying grip.

The soldier stubbornly forced herself to try and stand again, and Hope felt a familiar, painful wrenching in his gut as he saw the color drain from her face, saw her lose all resistance and fall limply back into his arms. It was déjà vu – like the scout in the 48th sector in the past week, like Serah's newest trainee three days before, like… Realization hit, and he barely maintained the presence of mind to hold Lightning up. The room spun, and the floor seemed to be dropping out from under them.

_Oh. Maker. NO._

"_Light!_" he cried out, oblivious to the entire roomful of people. Hope shook her unresponsive form in panic, repeatedly stammering, "Wake up – you have to wake up, please just wake up!"

He was distantly aware of Serah's hand furiously shaking his shoulder. "Hope, snap out of it! Let's go to the clinic – we've got to move _now_!" She was yelling in his ear, but it sounded like her voice was coming from the far end of a tunnel stuffed with insulation.

_Anything __but __this. __PSICOM, __Cie'th, __fal'Cie__ – __bring __it __on. __Just __please __not _this_._


	6. Good to Know

A/N: Sorry I had to leave everyone hanging after the last chapter, but hopefully this will assuage your curiosities :D As always, please read and review – I am always in need of feedback. Before we begin, let's have a little vocab lesson!

*vestibular system: system in the brain connected with the inner ear which is responsible for our sense of balance and spatial orientation; signals from this system are projected to the cerebellum.

*creeper: also called a "mechanic's creeper," this is the rolling thing that mechanics use to lay on and roll underneath vehicles.

***For purposes of clarification, please note that Serah is currently 23 (based on a starting age of 18 from the game plus the five years that passed).

Disclaimer: Square Enix is the proud owner of this whole setup (bless them).

(revised 30SEP11)

Good to Know (you'll be okay)

Lightning was able to deduce two things in her limited state of consciousness: Brynhildr had a flaming scythe against her head, and Nix and Stiria were blasting her body with glacial winds. Or so it seemed.

In the midst of her physical torment, she put every ounce of strength into prying open her eyelids; desperate situations called for immediate assessment and execution of a plan, and she had nothing to work with.

Through blurry eyes and blinding pain, Lightning could see a slight figure approach what appeared to be her bedside, and she felt the prick of a needle and a warm, tingling sensation that travelled up her arm. Closing her eyes from the strain, she concentrated instead on the sounds.

"Are you awake, Sis?" Serah asked quietly.

_Oh good. At least it was my own sister giving me a shot. Are we in the clinic? What happened?_

Lightning mumbled incoherently, finding her mouth too slow to catch up with what her mind wanted to ask.

"Great, you're finally coming to," Serah said, leaning down and putting a hand to Lightning's forehead. "Still need to bring that fever down, though. If you can hear me, we brought you to Medical last night – it's going to be alright, so just go back to sleep, okay?"

Lightning managed a small "Mmhm" before gladly complying. Her head was pounding too much to take in any more information.

It could have been hours or even days of fitful sleep, and Lightning was ceaselessly plagued by nightmares of fighting Orphan. The situation was puzzling to her, because Hope was somehow permanently silenced from casting any spells, healing or otherwise, and she was barely able to keep him alive with a constant chain of cures flung in his direction. To her left, Fang was pouring limitless raw power into every slice of her lance, but Orphan didn't seem to notice and kept blasting away at Hope, and Lightning had neither the time to cast raise if he went down nor a single phoenix down to throw his way. Poisoned and entirely de-buffed, he finally succumbed to a concentrated blast of dark energy, flying backward and crashing in a heap on the ground.

Trapped in the illusory construct, Lightning was unable to force her body to make a move and go to his aid, and though she was screaming her throat dry, calling his name and telling him to get up, no sound came out. Once the smoke had cleared, and the pressure of her own muted voice had died in her ears, Lightning noticed another conundrum of the dream – that was no boy where Hope had fallen.

That was the future Hope, in his trademark coveralls.

_No __wonder __he __couldn't __use __magic. __What __is __he _doing _here?_

Suddenly, the scene with Orphan melted away, and everything came back to her in a whirlwind of flashing images – the meeting, the gunblade, the pub… Hope's shirt.

_Oh __no. __I __threw __up. __On_ him_._

Lightning was startled back to consciousness, immediately noticing a damp coolness against her burning forehead and warmth surrounding the icy fingers of her left hand. There were no voices, so she cracked her eyes open to survey the room. Hope was sitting there, slumped over as he looked down at her hand, utter emotional destruction written all over his face. Lightning recalled the last time she had seen that desperate expression – when he finally broke down and faced the pain over the loss of his mother. "I'm messed up," were his words, and she couldn't have said it better herself, both then and now. He needed help, and at the time Lightning knew that the best she could do was to squeeze his hand.

Hope instantly sat upright. "You're awake!" he exclaimed, lighting up. The relief shining in his eyes was heartbreaking.

"Is the headache gone yet? Are you thirsty?" He kept his voice down, but was unable to stop the burst of questions and stifle his eagerness to help as he removed the cloth from her forehead, soaked it in a little bowl on the bedside table and rung it out, and then replaced it.

"Still there, but better," she managed to rasp out. "And yes, parched."

"Great! I mean, not about the water – just the headache, not that it's good either, you know, just… better," he said, tripping over the words as they tumbled out. "Nevermind. I'll be right back!" Hope ran into an adjacent room, presumably to get the water, but he got into a conversation with Serah instead, and Lightning listened intently, hoping to gauge the seriousness of what exactly was wrong with her that could make Hope look like he'd witnessed the slaughter of an entire puppy farm.

"Rats, we just used this one up," Serah began in frustration. "Could I get you to go out to the supply shed and bring in a new container?"

"Roger that!" Hope replied, and Lightning could hear his retreating footsteps and the slamming of a door, followed by lighter steps coming toward the room.

Serah approached the bed, smiling and looking immensely relieved as she took the seat formerly occupied by Hope. "How are you feeling now, Sis?" She took Lightning's temperature with a tiny digital device, relaxing when she saw the readout.

"Like I need a good curaga," Lightning muttered, and Serah looked at her like she'd grown a second head, becoming oddly defensive.

"What on Pulse is that? I don't know what sort of overpowering and dependency-inducing pain meds you're used to in the military, but you won't be getting them from me." Her eyes were unyielding. "Seriously though, how do you feel? The fever's going down, but I need to know your symptoms to treat you better," Serah added soothingly, brushing Lightning's flat, sticky bangs out of her face.

Lightning groaned a little as she tried to twist onto her side, giving up halfway and looking up at her sister. "There's still this annoying headache, and my whole body feels drained," she replied, her voice dry and weak. "What happened to me? I need to know."

Serah sighed, looking unsure for a moment as she turned her eyes down, but when she finally met Lightning's gaze, a weighty resolve was settled in her features.

"There's something you have to know about Pulse in order to understand the situation," she began slowly, carefully placing the words. "A certain type of fungus grows here, native to this region at least, and every year in the late spring it releases microscopic spores that happen to act as hosts to a highly dangerous virus. Let's just say it's not friendly to the neurological, respiratory, and immune systems of people, and you just found out first-hand. We've been unofficially calling it the Focus strain because of the traits it has in common with a l'Cie focus – kind of twisted, but you get the point."

"How do you even know about this?" Lightning croaked, looking incredulous. "Pretty sure microbiology isn't too in-depth at the high school level."

"Give me a chance to explain," Serah continued, breathing a sigh in mild frustration. "I first found out about research into the problem back in the new settlement, where a collective of surviving scientists and doctors had begun a study on the real cause behind a growing number of incorrectly diagnosed fatal illnesses; what they thought were flu symptoms turned out to be connected with mold spores in the lungs, so they treated it by quarantine and air filtration methods, only to find that it _was_ actually viral after further investigation and several deaths. Even some of the patients who were treated successfully didn't survive the relapse infection, and that was months later." Serah paused for a moment, a sad expression on her face as she dwelled on the information, most likely from unpleasant memories associated with it.

"I still don't see how you got access to all this information," Lightning said skeptically, so Serah expounded further.

"That was over four and a half years ago, and at the time, I had three important jobs: looking after a bunch of crystal statues, taking care of Hope and Dajh, and finding work to help the new settlement and support the boys. The second and third things, well, sort of combined and led me into a medical apprenticeship, especially with the need for doctor's assistants. The only positions that were more in-demand were in construction and engineering or military-led patrol squads, and I'm not exactly cut out for either one." She grinned, flexing her tiny arm in jest and poking at the barely visible muscle.

"Pfft, well that makes sense. Either way, I take it whatever you did for me is helping, right?" Lightning asked hoarsely, hoping that four years of research and development would have increased her chances of recovery.

"Seems to be. I gave you a new antiviral treatment that we tested earlier this year, and we already know that it works well against the symptoms. The only thing is, it's hard to know if a relapse will occur, because this virus can go into dormancy for months or even years, hidden in neurons and feeding off the energy of nerve impulses. The symptoms are common and fast-acting and the virus itself is highly adaptive, so relapses can be life-threatening – mostly due to the danger of hemorrhage from infected nerve cells passing the virus into blood vessels of the affected region of the brain, often starting in the vestibular system. We've had a lot of success with research and treatment, though, even after separating from the colony because of the political split – some of the medical staff and scientists I worked with joined the resistance, so they continue their work here."

Serah appeared to be satisfied with her little speech, and she stopped to check Lightning's vitals on a screen. "Wish we'd figured out your condition sooner, but it really did seem like a migraine, and most cases don't develop until someone has been exposed to the spores for at least a week." She frowned, but recovered quickly and gave Lightning a sweet smile. "Don't worry though, Sis. You're in good hands – the best we have right now, anyway."

Something in Serah's voice and manner seemed off to Lightning, like her sister was overcompensating in her reassurances, forcing out positive information and covering something up – or at the very least skirting around an issue. She couldn't pinpoint the source of her doubt, though, and she had no idea how to bring it up without any logical way to explain, so she let it pass for the time being.

"Guess I can understand why Hope looked so out-of-sorts; he's probably seen some of the cases that didn't go so well," Lightning considered, rubbing at her forehead and willing the weakened but persistent throbbing inside to just go away.

"Yeah, he definitely has," Serah commented blankly. Lightning felt that same nagging sense of avoidance in her sister's words, but before she had the chance to inquire, she heard a backdoor creaking open and footsteps again. A minute later, Hope came stumbling in with a large glass of water, a look of satisfaction on his face as he handed it to Lightning, mission complete.

"Sorry it took so long," he said, smiling apologetically. "What'd I miss?"

"Just a science lesson," Lightning replied, taking a few gulps of water, "with a focus on the cause and effects of a disturbing virus. Never expected microbiology to hit so close to home."

Hope wore a strange expression, his eyes widening at her words, and he and Serah shared a fleeting look that set off the alarms in Lightning's head, but she just couldn't focus enough to name the problem.

"Sounds interesting," he said with an empty laugh, apparently intent on leaping over the gaping information hole like Serah had. "But I'm glad I was out – not a big fan of that kind of science."

"Come on – it's not _boring_," Serah protested. "Unless people have some freakish immunity like me, they have a decent chance of getting this stupid virus sooner or later, so relevance is never a problem."

"Good point," Hope added, glancing over and noticing that Lightning's glass was already empty. "Here, let me refill that." He took the glass and left her to her thoughts for a moment.

Lightning pondered the scope of the viral epidemic as she watched Serah take some notes on a clipboard, and she wondered just how much her sister and Hope weren't telling her.

_Can't __say __for __sure __what's __going __on, __but __when __I __can __sort __this __out, _someone _is __going __to __come __clean, __whether __they __like __it __or __not._

* * *

Hope was anything but displeased with his work on the beaten-up gunblade as he tweaked the retraction mechanism for the tenth time and double-checked the balance of new components. The week Lightning spent at the clinic had passed in a flurry of errands for Serah and her 'patient', whose restless frustration had consistently increased in direct proportion to her improving health. Still, getting his hands on that long-coveted – and generally untouchable – weapon was going to be worth all the trouble once he showed the finished product to its unsuspecting wielder.

On that note, just seeing Lightning back to her old self was rewarding on its own. He would rather feel the sting of a bucketful of ice in the face and make her laugh – _stupid__of__me__to__try__that__ice-down-the-shirt__prank_– than watch as she lay there sedated and blank as the meds went to work. Maybe it was selfish, but he suspected that she felt the same; soldiers like Lightning preferred to lick their wounds in a cave somewhere, not numb the pain.

_If it had been anyone but Serah, Light would have already busted out of that clinic. And it would have been pretty fun to watch._

He smiled wickedly to himself, knowing that today could very well end that way; she had been cleared for release by technicality, and with every passing hour he knew that exit by force was becoming imminent if Serah didn't back off about moving her into the house with Snow and herself for another week of monitoring. Not really confrontational by nature, he had retreated and left the sisters to argue, and he knew that Serah would be sure to pass on the outcome of the fight to him once an armistice had been signed. Right on cue, his transceiver came alive with static, and the aforementioned medic was ranting into the other end.

"Hope, Hope do you read me? Pick up already! I _know_ you're there!" The reception was much clearer since he'd tweaked the relay antenna earlier in the week, but he would have preferred the excuse of interference as an out for this situation.

"Loud and clear," he finally replied, curiosity outweighing the impulse to avoid getting involved.

"Hope, do _not_ let my sister in there! She's trying to avoid me, but I need her to stay close by to keep an eye on her condition – you know that!"

"Serah, I'm sure if you let it go, she'll consent to daily check-ups or something," Hope persuaded. "What makes you think she'll come to the hangar, anyway?" Some part of him wanted to believe that his presence had an influence on the situation, but knowing Lightning, it was purely logistical.

"Just trust me, okay? I didn't see which way she went, but I have a feeling she'll turn up there," Serah replied, obviously on her last nerve.

"Alright, alright. But it seems awfully rude to just bolt the doors and send her packing somewhere else. At least if she came here, you'd know where she was," Hope said. He knew that Lightning would make him pay if she ever found out he had interfered, and honestly, he didn't _want_ to keep her out. Serah was just flustered, and he could get her to listen to reason.

"Guess you have a point," she finally said, her sigh coming over the waves in a loud burst of noise after several seconds of silence. "Can you keep her there for me, then?"

"Sure. I'll do my best," he said, then added as a precaution, "but don't radio me if you can help it. I think she won't appreciate you monitoring her through me when she's trying to get away from the all-seeing eye of 'Big Sister'."

"Fine," Serah relented, "but get off Snow's little joke bandwagon about my age already – _you_ of all people should know that two years doesn't count for squat. And give me an update tonight, okay?"

"Will do. Over and out," Hope replied, putting the transceiver away and gathering his fine-tuning tools into their pouch. He stashed the gunblade under the bed in a crate of rolled schematics and went up the fire escape ladder into the main hangar; it was the fastest way out of the bunker, but only that – a way _out_. If he came face to face with a very enraged Lightning, there would be no escaping back into the handle-less hatch. And if she somehow figured out that he had her gunblade, there would potentially be reason to_want_ to escape. Not being a total idiot, he had left a decoy gunblade of the same model from another soldier in her holster in the clinic, but the ruse was bound to fail under closer inspection. He'd evaluated the risk, and felt that the benefits outweighed the consequences.

_Maybe she's too weak to try anything destructive. Doubt it though._

When he emerged, the only sound to be heard in the massive hangar was the familiar, steady humming of electrical systems running the equipment. There was no sign of Lightning anywhere around, so Hope decided to bide his time sealing up the last panel from the thruster repairs; there were still some wires hanging out of the underbelly, and its unsightliness had been plaguing him for the last couple of days of Lightning's recovery.

He lay back on the creeper and rolled under the ship, methodically twisting and fastening the wires before tucking them into place. As he fitted the ratchet with the proper size socket for the panel's bolts, he felt something grab his ankles just before the creeper jerked suddenly and rolled him out from under the ship, smooth metal flashing by above as it was replaced by a very agitated Lightning glaring down at him. Hope belatedly wished he had looked more surprised than pleased to see her hovering there – he could tell from the way the frustration in her eyes morphed into confusion that he had once again screwed up in the art of deception.

"Is Serah coming here?" she immediately demanded, obviously in mission mode.

"What? No," Hope assured her, then quickly tacked on, "Why?"

"Good," Lightning replied shortly, disregarding the question.

"So, to what do I owe the special visit?" He really wanted to see if she would fess up, or at least what excuse was forthcoming.

"It's been a week, and I'm sticking to the deal we made," she answered simply. "Where's this bunker?"

_All business, as usual. Well, two can play at this game._

He sighed in disappointment, firing back a rebuttal. "Technically, both of us spent the entire week at the clinic, so we can pretty much consider this time null and void under the conditions of exchange."

Lightning looked somewhat taken aback, and her expression softened as she considered his words. Clearly, she hadn't realized how _much_ time he'd spent in and around Medical for the last several days.

"Guess you're right," she finally said. "Make an exception?"

He honestly would never have refused, despite feeling peeved at once again being on the receiving end of a mood swing, which had become the pattern of the week – not unjustifiably, but there came a point when things needed to return to normal, or some semblance of what passed for it. Hope was a lot of things, but punching bag was not on the list, and he begrudgingly decided to gamble on being a catalyst for change.

Hope planted his feet and gripped the edge of the ship. "Give me a few minutes to fix this, and then I'll show you the stairs." Not waiting for a response, he rolled back under the metal hull, lifting the panel in place to tighten the bolts around its edge. He heard a very low, frustrated growl and rapid footsteps as Lightning stormed off somewhere.

_She could stand to learn a little patience. Not my fault that Serah burned up most of her precious fuse._

When Hope rolled back out, satisfied with his work, Lightning was nowhere to be found, so he tossed the tools into a bin, washed his hands in the utility sink and headed down the stairs in the corner.

In the bunker, Hope wove his way through the shelves of tools and parts, now neatly organized, to the little bedroom setup in the back section of the room. Thinking over the insensitivity of his response before, he mentally kicked himself for making Lightning wait around, whether or not she needed an attitude adjustment. He sat on the bed and leaned back against the wall, casually running a hand through his messy hair. Distantly, he noticed the sound of water splattering down in a rhythmic pattern and realized that, yes, it was the HAZMAT shower.

Moreover, he was not the one in it, which left only one possibility. _She_ was.

Shaking his head violently to clear the onslaught of subsequent images, he instinctively turned toward the sound and was once again flooded with unwelcome thoughts at the sight of a little pile of uniform articles on the floor a few meters off in that direction.

_Kill __me __now. __I _deserve _to __be __struck __down __for __that __one._

A few deep breathing exercises later, Hope was back to his senses. _I'll __just __call __Serah __and __let __her __know __Light's __here, __and __she's __fine. _It's _fine. __Whatever._

He took the transceiver and ran upstairs, allowing Lightning some privacy and knowing that it would be best if she didn't overhear Serah's little checkup on her status.

A solid hour had passed before Hope dared to wander back down to the bunker, and even then he did so with caution, tempted to announce "Male on deck" in military fashion.

"Light, can I come in?" he called into the room from the base of the stairs, but there was no reply. He slowly made his way to the back of the room, peeking around the edge of the last shelf to see that, no, the clothes were not on the floor anymore, to his relief. Panning to the left, his eyes fell on a pair of worn, leather boots neatly standing flush with the end of the bed, and when he stepped out fully he saw that the hardened warrior was stretched out flat on the covers, sleeping peacefully with one arm dangling over the edge, face buried in the pillow under a pile of damp, pink hair.

Hope had not seen her sleep that soundly during her entire stay in the clinic, where every time she drifted into unconsciousness would bring on a new bout of tossing and turning in restless exhaustion, so he was glad to see that she had finally relaxed in earnest. He walked softly to the bed, grabbing the thin blanket from the footboard and draping it over her still form.

Lightning stirred at the change. "Ngh…my turn…stand watch already?" She rolled onto her back and sat up abruptly like a marionette being jerked by its strings, shoulders drooping and eyes closed, feeling around on the covers for something, probably her gunblade.

"No, Light," Hope said quietly, gently pushing her back by the shoulders. Her resistance was feeble at best, and soon she was settling back into the pillow. "You don't have to wake up now."

Her face scrunched up in uncertainty at his words, and she mumbled a barely intelligible reply. "Hope? You sure… can stay awake… a whole watch? You're too tired for this... worried about you."

Hope was dumbstruck by the sleepy admission from Lightning, but figured he should at least try to appease her subconscious self.

"Don't worry. Some things, you just do."

Lightning gave a little half-smile in her sleep, seeming to drift off completely. Hope smiled back ruefully, wishing his composure had been more solid, at least enough to spare her the weight of concern over him.

As he turned to leave her to a proper REM cycle, he heard a faintly whispered, "Hope."

"Something wrong, Light?"

She continued, voice getting softer. "Take the gunblade… monsters… not afraid of flashy boomerangs… probably attracts them."

Hope choked on a laugh, smothering his mouth with his hand. "Thanks, I'll do that."

_Score! I'll take that as de facto permission for the repairs – sort of. Hope: 1, Lightning: lost count._


	7. There's No Danger

A/N: All set to serve up the next chapter – heavy on the information, but with tasty side-dishes of fun! Things will keep picking up from here, and I promise to work diligently in the midst of the insanity that is my life right now, so long as I can get awesome feedback from my reviewers. Thanks for continuing to R & R!

Also, glad to see that no one tried to kill me with the verbal equivalent of WMDs for the inclusions from X-2, so I have added yet another familiar face (from X and X-2, actually).

Disclaimer: Square Enix gave me the materials, I just ran with it (much like scissors). Oh, and OLP owns the titles :D

(revised 30SEP11)

There's No Danger

"I said _stay_! If you want this stupid treat, Snuggles, you _have_ to _stay_!" Hope shouted at the hapless wyvern, thrusting his palm outward in an attempt to command the young monster circling around him, beady eyes on the bucket of scrap bones held just out of reach.

"Ugh! Snow was so right about the _dastardly_ part!"

Snuggles was now tied to an ever-lengthening leash connected to a very deep, exposed pipeline in Serah's backyard, and while he had yet to attempt an escape, he was one willful little pest – a trainer's nightmare.

Lightning had never seen Hope's patience wear that thin, and she snickered to herself as she watched his little tantrum from the open back door. In all fairness, it _had_ been over an hour since the ordeal began.

"I really doubt he's going to respond to your whole 'positive reinforcement' routine," she called out, unable to hide a smirk.

"Fine, then," Hope said, turning and marching toward the door, bringing a personal storm cloud with him. He dropped the bucket on the ground in front of Lightning with a harsh clang. "Let's see _you_ make him stay. _Without_ my 'positive reinforcement'."

_Really shouldn't be so amused at his expense._

"You're on." Lightning brushed past him and approached Snuggles, looming menacingly in front of the baby wyvern, whose immediate response was to run as fast as he could in the opposite direction and cower behind the chocobo stable, refusing to emerge.

"Whatever," she grumbled, shrugging and heading back toward the door, where Hope stood grinning unabashedly at the turn of events.

"Well, at least we know he's intelligent," he remarked.

Lightning shot him the iciest glare she could muster. "I'm that terrifying, you mean."

"N-not all the time," Hope replied weakly, but he began to rally. "When you aren't trying to be so intimidating, it's surprising – pleasant, even." He had looked down at his shoes, toying with a loose thread at the bottom of his shirt, and she barely caught the last of what he said. Unsure how to form a cohesive response and fighting the insufferable heat that threatened to invade her cheeks, Lightning could not have been more happy with Serah's timing.

"You'll never believe what I just heard!" her sister exclaimed, running full speed at them while waving the transceiver in her hand. "They're back, and Snow says they found something big!"

"Anything more specific?" Hope asked, suddenly as eager as Serah was excited.

"No, but he'll be home really soon, and I'm sure he'll tell us all about it then!" she replied enthusiastically, rushing back inside and downstairs to work on dinner.

Lightning felt somewhat lost about what to expect, but she knew it must have been incredibly significant for them to return before even two weeks had passed on the surveying operation – a whole week early.

When Snow finally arrived, they were already around the dinner table, silently waiting as the anticipation hung thick in the air. The doorbell rang, and Serah shot up from her seat.

"Coming!" she yelled, rushing up the stairs. She returned with Snow and Sazh in tow, and Snow looked like he was about to jump out of his skin with excitement over whatever news was coming. He walked straight over to Hope, pulling the young man up by the shoulders and shaking him emphatically.

"We found it, Hope! The whole freakin' evacuation ship."

Hope's mouth opened in astonishment at the information, lips moving as if to find the words but unable to get anything out. Lightning could have sworn that he had gotten a bit misty-eyed.

Snow seemed to be trying to shake the shock out of him. "Hey, come on, you had to be the first to know! What do you have to say? Awesome, right?"

"Y-yeah, awesome," he finally stammered, still dazed, and already on to a new question. "No…no bodies, though…right?"

"That's the best part!" Snow said, releasing Hope to give him a friendly punch in the shoulder. "Not a one, _and_ trails leaving the site! We're already getting prepped for another expedition to check it out."

Hope let out a shaky breath of relief and smiled from ear to ear. "Thanks, Snow." He gave the burly man a two-second, but nonetheless heartfelt, bear hug.

"Geez, kid! Be sure and share the thanks with the rest of the team, got it?" Snow pulled back a chair and plopped down, obviously ready to dig in to some real, non-reconstituted food.

"Sure thing," Hope said, laughing.

"So, what exactly is the significance of this ship?" Lightning asked, wishing she'd had the presence of mind to bring it up during the mission briefing.

"Well, besides the fact that this was the only evacuation ship unaccounted for after the landing," Sazh replied, "we're pretty sure it was carrying some precious cargo. Do you remember when you asked if we'd turned up anything on Bartholomew Estheim?"

Hope seemed surprised at that, his eyes questioning, and Lightning belatedly realized that he probably wondered why the subject had never come up. She looked back to Sazh, who clearly knew more than he had let on initially.

"Yeah. You said you hadn't had any luck, but I should have known that was a pretty simplistic explanation," Lightning replied, intent on getting the story straight. "So you think Bartholomew was on the lost ship?"

"No way to know for sure, but we have reason to believe it's probable," Sazh said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "What we're going on – what information we got from our Guardian Corps allies – was that his last confirmed location was at a PSICOM holding facility, part of the missing ship's evacuation zone."

Lightning let the information sink in, and with it came a cold lump of dread in the pit of her stomach when she thought about what it could mean to Hope if their search was a dead-end.

As if sensing the direction her thoughts had taken, Hope quietly spoke up. "Even if it's only a slim chance, we have to try. I mean, we've faced much worse odds, and at the very least we can settle once and for all whether there are survivors out there." He was obviously doing everything to be optimistic, and Lightning felt her doubts be consumed by a determination to support the upcoming mission to whatever ends, for his sake.

_Still can't give up hope – seems to be the theme of our existence._

* * *

It turned out that getting a search team together, equipped, and briefed required a few days of work, and Lightning made her way through the rest of the week with mounting anxious energy – energy that could not be released through combat training, not since Serah had strictly forbid it until she took a few more days to fully regain her strength. Aside from periodic evening briefs on plans, emergency protocols, and safety precautions, helping Snow train Snuggles was one of the most effective distractions available, and he had utilized a combination of methods with the assistance of herself and Hope.

Surely defying the laws of nature, the little wyvern had attached itself to Snow out of gratitude, so with the use of Hope's positive reinforcement technique and Lightning's perimeter control (the threat of her presence, she suspected, also made him more willing to cooperate with his master), Snow made a decent amount of progress in a few short days. Snuggles could at least respond to his name, and most of the time, he would stay when told.

The fateful day arrived without ceremony, and poor Serah, the only one to stay behind besides Dajh, bid everyone farewell. Lightning was glad that her sister would be out of harm's way, especially since there was no telling what they might run into, be it monsters, PSICOM, or something else entirely.

The scouting team this time around had more than doubled in size, though it was not large enough to potentially attract too much attention from hostiles in the area. Sazh and Hope were each driving a transport, loaded down with Snow's core group of NORA members _and_Snuggles, the former l'Cie, a number of Guardian Corps troops under one Sergeant Lucil, and all their gear and supplies for however long it would take to fully investigate the site and track down the survivors.

On the long ride out to the distant sector 49, Lightning had managed to piece together the whole scenario surrounding the crashed aircraft from the accounts of Yuj, Maqui, and the very knowledgeable Lucil without much work on her part. As it turned out, the unfortunate evacuation ship had veered off course shortly after departing from somewhere near Cocoon's high-end PSICOM holding facility, its flight path impossible to track after leaving the range of communications.

"Didn't PSICOM try to search for survivors?" Lightning asked the fellow sergeant, whom she felt sure would be most likely to know.

"Ha. That's what they told Hope, back when he wouldn't have dreamed otherwise," Lucil said sardonically. "Think about it; the only missing ship was full of a bunch of prisoners. I doubt PSICOM wanted them here in the first place."

"Never been more proud to be Guardian Corps," Lightning remarked quietly.

"Heh, no kidding. It's not right what PSICOM put that kid through," Lucil replied, already climbing a soapbox on the subject. "I was on duty in the building that week when he first came to the new PSICOM headquarters trying to find out information about his father, and they sent him packing, spouting some hogwash about a search team."

"So there never was _any_ reason to believe they might have mounted a search?" Lightning interjected.

"Not a snowball's chance on Pulse – GC was the primary agent for search and rescue, and PSICOM never gave any such order," Lucil readily replied, continuing.

"Anyway, as I was saying, Hope came back a couple of days later, but the new duty officer recognized him from the l'Cie incident back on Cocoon and gave him an earful about everything being the l'Cie's fault, and he threatened that they had every right to take him into custody. Said something about him being out of crystalstasis and probably having some new, devious focus. At that point, I called my unit officer and reported the infraction, so Hope got a nice GC escort home."

"I assume this has something to do with the rebellion," Lightning said thoughtfully.

"You got it," Lucil said with a nod. "Next thing I knew, the whole story got out, PSICOM was backing PSICOM and the Guardian Corps was trying to defend the rights of the former l'Cie, and not surprisingly, a lot of people were pretty sympathetic toward Hope. When PSICOM's threats got worse, more and more GC soldiers broke from the joint ranks, and the rift got wider until… well, things finally turned violent. Honestly, I don't think PSICOM ever expected to see the l'Cie come out of crystalstasis so _soon_, and there was no precedent for an awakened l'Cie to be free of a focus, not that it's an excuse for how they reacted."

Lightning had been listening intently, to the point that several questions had risen to the surface in her mind and refused to be pushed down. "What was the nature of these threats, exactly?" she asked, none too pleased with the nervous edge that had crept into her voice.

"Standard stuff, really," the sergeant offered, not hesitating to divulge everything. "Like, 'we'll find that new brand, Pulse l'Cie', or 'we'll lock up your friends if you don't come quietly', or my personal favorite, 'you'll never find out about your father if you hide from us'. What a load! Hit him pretty hard though; after they swooped in and took Snow and yourself right out from under us and seriously threatened anyone connected with him, he wouldn't go home for a month. He just hid out in the GC barracks trying to get Serah to agree to move under twenty-four hour surveillance with Dajh."

"Guess that explains how I woke up in a PSICOM outpost," Lightning remarked, hoping she didn't come across as accusatory.

"Yeah, that extraction operation was a mess," Lucil conceded. "Would've been worse if Sazh hadn't already awakened; at the time, just you and Snow needed to be recovered, but we hit some major setbacks: PSICOM still had home field advantage in and around the settlement, and we lacked the resources to transport everyone to a safe, remote location at the time. It was a serious risk just getting one of you out, though Hope had a hard time dealing with _that _decision."

"I'm sure it was for the best; Guardian Corps have a lot of faith in one of their own to survive," Lightning said plainly.

"Well, that and Snow's NORA pals happened to be in the right place at the right time, with their own priorities. We simply didn't have the time or the manpower to fight off all the PSICOM troops," Lucil concluded, slumping in her seat a bit. "That's not to say the incident didn't have a good effect – lit a fire under surveying efforts in the field. Shortly afterward, some of our scouts discovered the ruins here, and we spent months moving personnel and equipment out of the settlement in small numbers. Operations started up over three years ago, and Hope…" She paused, measuring her next words. "Well, you see how far he's come. Throw yourself into something that completely, and you're bound to make progress."

"I would've done the same, in his position," Lightning said, sinking further into her thoughts as they neared the crash site. She really would have done anything to protect the people she loved, and it had clearly been Hope's top priority back then. It called into question her earlier admittance to being a terrible influence, and the more she thought about what had been happening around her while Hope was on the outside trying to be strong and do what she had told him to do, namely, _survive_, in addition to making sure the others did the same, the angrier she became toward the instigator of his troubles.

_PSICOM is going to learn a whole new definition of pain._

* * *

It wasn't long before Hope saw the destination come into view as the coordinates blinked brightly on his console display, and he brought the transport down, cutting the engines and taking a breath, still apprehensive about what might await them. Snow had been reassuring, but he couldn't possibly have turned every single stone on site, much less speculate on what lay at the end of the trails. The crew unloaded, surveying the sight before them, and Hope choked down his fears and stepped out to face whatever reality had to offer.

The transports had touched down on the easternmost edge of a small clearing in the trees, maybe seventy meters across. In the center, the rusty evacuation ship looked to be more or less in one piece, leaving a few scattered chunks of debris in the wake of its arrival path through the treetops and dense underbrush. The landing gear had not been lowered, so the body of the ship was angled into the ground slightly, and one loose thruster pod lay in the trench behind the main wreckage. Foliage had since overgrown the scene, but there were clearly three different beaten paths snaking away from the aircraft into the trees, with the one heading southwestward being the least distinct.

_Guess they went that way first. I'd rather not go there._

Of the probably fifty or so evacuees that would have been aboard the ship, it seemed too much to hope that everyone survived the crash, even if the impact had been minimally damaging to the hull and essential components.

On top of that logical trepidation, and almost as distressing, Hope had been waiting on pins and needles for Lightning's reaction when she finally unsheathed the new and improved gunblade, which he had managed at the last minute to exchange for the mediocre decoy. Much like their search for survivors, his project could either end beautifully or painfully – he prayed to the Maker for the former. It would have been nice to return the gunblade to her properly, but time had gotten away from them, and he knew she would need the superior weapon for the mission. As it was, letting the discovery unfold was probably best – he still hadn't thought of what to say to her anyway.

Said pink-haired soldier was heading his way as the NORA crew finished up preliminary assessment of the scene and Sergeant Lucil began dividing up the scouting group into teams to follow the three different leads. All around, the soldiers buzzed with excitement over the highly critical mission, and the energy was too contagious for Hope to keep brooding over uncertainties.

_All we can really do is move forward._

He started at a hand touching his arm, and when he looked up at Lightning standing there, his smile was genuine.

"Did Lucil say which way we should go?" he asked, ready to make some progress.

"What makes you think you're on _my_ team?" The sarcasm was evident there, even with her uncompromising dryness.

"Did you have some other reason for coming over here? I was expecting a direct order to 'get it in gear'," he teased back.

"Good point." She whipped out the gunblade and pointed the sharpened tip at his chest. "Move it, Estheim!"

Hope immediately dissolved into laughter. "If you ever call me that again, I swear…" The laughs refused to stop rising up, and his sides ached.

"You'll what?" Lightning was smiling as she swung the blade downward in an arc, testing out the long unused weapon, but her expression made a swift one-eighty as she stopped dead, lifting the gunblade to take a closer look.

"What the…" she began, astonishment and anger written all over her features. "What the hell happened to my gunblade? This can_not_ be mine."

Much to his chagrin, her next move was to shoot him a questioning look, and he could practically feel the guilt radiating from him.

"Hope, what did you _do_?"

_Oh __Maker. __If __you __even __exist, __you __are_ not _merciful._

"Nothing to freak out over, Light – I mean, I just… that is, the gunblade was all banged up, so I wanted to fix it, then I figured it wouldn't hurt to make some improvements, nothing too fancy really – " His stuttering attempt at an explanation was promptly cut off by the increasingly livid Lightning.

"What? Where do you get off thinking you could just _take_ my gunblade and _modify_ it? _Without_ my permission, no less." Her voice had become dangerously low as she was obviously making an effort to keep her rage in check.

_Something tells me bringing up the whole 'you gave me permission in your sleep' excuse would only hasten my demise. I should at least tell her why I did it, though._

Hope took a deep breath and mustered his courage, aware that his next words could spell another long break in their communications.

_Well, it was fun while it lasted._

"I wanted… to surprise you," he said softly.

"Tch, you succeeded, then." Lightning turned and stormed off to where Snow and Sazh were chatting beside the other transport, gesturing at Snow and back toward Hope, and soon enough he found himself in the company of the NORA leader and his faithful pet.

"So, umm, Light says _I_ have to watch your back for this one," Snow started awkwardly. "Mind telling me what exactly went down?"

"I'm an idiot. That's pretty much the gist of it."

"Well, from one idiot to another, I'm interested to know your specific method of incrimination – for future reference, ya know," Snow urged. "If it _can_ be used to infuriate a woman, I'm pretty sure I'll stumble on it sooner or later, so you might as well save me the trouble."

"Rrrraaakkk!" Snuggles let out a short screech, sniffing around Hope for any edible handouts.

"Trust me, Snow; that's not likely," Hope said with a mirthless laugh.

"Enlighten me."

_Points for persistence, pseudo-brother._

"I'll tell you when we hit the trail, okay?" Hope sighed, defeated.

"Sweet!"

Sergeant Lucil had finished organizing the troops, and Hope and Snow headed out with the expedition team on the northeastern trail, while Lightning and Sazh had joined up with the team headed northwest. A third, smaller crew begrudgingly took on the southwest trail, griping about the likelihood of a dead end.

The trail going northeast was surprisingly well-used, winding through the trees with the occasional branch path that would end at remnants of a campfire or discarded garbage. Along the way, Snuggles nosed around curiously, eating scraps on the ground or large bugs and generally staying appeased, but Snow constantly pestered Hope to tell him what had happened with Lightning, getting more annoying as Hope kept stalling. Finally, Snow threw down the gauntlet.

"You know, Hope, a man's only as good as his word," he said pointedly. "Oh well, maybe that doesn't apply to you."

"I don't recall giving you my word," Hope replied, trying not to respond to the obvious baiting. "So no, it _doesn't_ apply."

But Snow did not fully acknowledge his words; Snuggles had begun to circle restlessly, darting his head around to the trees on both sides of the path in alert. The entire party was suddenly wary, weapons raised and aimed into the dense, wild surroundings.

Snow hastily attached Snuggles' leash to an overhanging branch and prepared for the worst. "This can't be good."

"Highly unlikely," Hope muttered, flicking his boomerang open and trying to follow the wyvern's line of sight to its object. He finally distinguished it from the brush: the muzzle of an assault rifle. The others seemed to notice as well, and half of them faced the known danger, while the rest concentrated on scanning for more.

Moments later, a sharp voice came from the right-hand side of the trail, not far into the trees.

"Drop your weapons! We have you surrounded."

Snow spoke up. "Why don't you show yourselves, cowards! Maybe then we'll consider it." There was a moment of heavy tension as the sound of multiple guns being locked and loaded reverberated in the air.

From the sound of things, they were outnumbered, but Snow apparently had a contingency plan. He pulled an all too familiar object from his pocket, making ready to hurl it into the air as he gave Hope a reassuring nod.

At that moment, Hope knew exactly what Snow had in mind. "Easy guys, we get the message," Hope began, appeasing the unseen enemy, and then addressing the team. "Everyone, put your weapons on the ground, nice and slow."

Despite a couple of confused looks, the entire group lowered themselves and laid their guns on the trail. Hope and Snow motioned subtly and briefly for them to remain down, cover their ears and close their eyes.

"Three, two, one," Snow quietly counted, and then tossed up the flash grenade.

_If __this __works, __I _owe _him __the __rest __of __the __story__ – __and __a __lifetime __supply __of __wings._


	8. Know the Wire

A/N: Posting as promised! This week's been less crazy, and I've edited this poor chapter to death, but it should be lots of fun and I can't wait to see what everyone has to say :D That said, please do read and review! Just two little vocab word for you this time, and they're a lot easier than the ones before.

*flashbang – another, more informal name for a flash grenade

*p-way – passageway

Disclaimer: Everything is property of Square Enix (bless them again).

(revised 30SEP11)

Know the Wire (the fuse)

Lightning had been silently stalking along, hanging around the back of the group to herself for the last half-hour of their trek up the northeastern trail, and the passage of time had yet to quell her irritation at Hope's flagrant breach of trust.

_Unacceptable. How could he expect to just get away with that level of tampering? He's lucky I can't summon Odin anymore._

But every time Lightning thought about it, her emotions quailed at the image of that pleading look in his eyes when he tried to explain. Inevitably, she ended up cursing herself for the vulnerability that kept surfacing when it came to Hope, and the anger that welled up would start the vicious cycle of agitation again.

So wrapped up in her own issues was the soldier that she didn't make any useful observations along the trail as they followed Lucil between the twisted trees. Distantly, she noticed that Sazh had gradually fallen into step beside her.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked with a sympathetic grin. Apparently, her unintelligible mutterings hadn't quite gone unnoticed.

"About what?" Lightning asked curtly, unwilling to answer but oddly interested to know what Sazh's impression had actually been.

"About why you're so riled up," he said, earning a white-hot glare of indignation from her. Unmoved, he pressed further. "I'll generally vouch for Hope, but if he's gone and done something stupid, which I suspect is the problem here, I'd at least like to know about it."

"You can ask _him_, then." Lightning hoped that her tone and posture were sufficient indicators that the conversation was over. Absently, her hand found its way to the gunblade hilt, and some tiny part of her wanted to give it a fair test to see if it was, in fact, an improvement over the original form.

At that moment, a sharp crack split the air, the source of the sound probably a few kilometers or so to the right of their position.

"What was _that_?" Sazh spoke for the entire group, and Sergeant Lucil quickly evaluated the situation.

"Based on our location, it sounded like it could be from the team on the northeast trail," she said warily. "Some sort of grenade, most likely, so we'd better bushwhack straight through to the east. Doubletime!"

The gunblades were out in force, and their tight-knit group made quick work of the underbrush, blazing the trail at an impressive pace. The further they pressed into the wild, the more Lightning began to notice a lightness in her modified gunblade, feeling a smoothness in the strokes that she'd not experienced with any other weapon before – even the various specialty upgrades from their l'Cie journey had not afforded that level of efficiency.

She was starting to regret her initial reaction to Hope's 'surprise', further compounding the already mounting fear for his safety. If grenades were involved, the situation had reached a critical level. As if in confirmation, another sound reached their ears from the direction they were heading – a few scattered gunshots, then a brief silence followed by another volley.

_Snow had better have his back – I have a score to settle._

A solid forty minutes later, the front of the team finally broke through to the blessed trail, rolling their shoulders to relieve the soreness that had set in and scanning the area for signs of the group in distress: scorch marks, broken branches, anything. It quickly became apparent that Snow's team had passed that point on the path, so Sergeant Lucil motioned for everyone to move on.

Ahead, Lightning heard the familiar, though weakened, screeching of a young wyvern, and before long they found Snuggles. The poor creature had tangled itself in the bushes along the path, and its leash extended from a tree branch above before disappearing into the undergrowth, where it had wrapped around him a few times.

"Rrrrraaaakkk! Rrak, rraakkk." Snuggles continued his pathetic distress call while two of the GC members tried to disentangle the leash without freeing the wild animal.

Whatever had transpired, they were undoubtedly at ground zero. The part of the trail near Snuggles was littered with shell casings, and not far ahead lay the charred body assembly of a flashbang.

Sergeant Lucil picked up one of the casings from the dirt, tossing it in the air and catching it with a quick swipe of her arm. "I think it's safe to say we're dealing with PSICOM here," she said, dropping the shell to the ground and dusting off her hands. "Let's tread lightly, or we'll be finding our friends a little too easily."

_So __much __for __tracking __down __survivors. __Not __so __sure __I'll __want __to _leave _any __when __we __run __into __PSICOM __this __time._

* * *

Hope was in the dark. In every sense of the phrase. His only clue that he was not, in fact, dead and crossed over was a sharp pain somewhere on the back of his head.

_Ouch. What hit me? A bullet? A lug nut? A really bad idea?_

The obscurity slowly began to dissipate, and his eyes opened to the cold, concrete floor of a dimly-lit room. Focusing, he could make out Snow sitting in the far corner of the tiny space, slumped back against the wall, snoring. Hope sat up gradually, wincing at the pain, and carefully moved to inspect its source. His hand felt a warm stickiness matting a small section of hair just under the crown, and he tried to think back to what had transpired.

_Snuggles freaked out, Snow threw that flash grenade, and then…_

It finally came back to him. A handful of the stunned men that had ambushed them had reflexively fired their guns, and he, Snow, and the rest of the team flattened themselves on the dirt, waiting for the shots to die down before jumping up and running further along the trail to try and regroup while their window of opportunity was open. When the enemy finally staggered out of the bushes, the rebel team was ready, and during their short volley with the still-disoriented PSICOM soldiers they hadn't felt more than grazes from badly-aimed shots. The tide had turned when a fresh support detail unexpectedly came up from the rear, probably in response to a distress call; all in all, they were simply too outnumbered to risk fighting back.

Snow had tried to negotiate, but the PSICOM unit's leader shut him up with a hard punch to the gut, and they hastily bound his wrists with electro-lock cuffs. Hope vaguely remembered struggling, attempting to say or do something in Snow's defense, but he'd felt a hard object crack against his head, making his vision burst into stars and then drop into blackness. The memories hit a dead end at that point.

"Oww… Must've been the butt of a gun – and right where I hit it before, too," Hope muttered to himself, shakily rising to his knees and crawling toward Snow.

Wherever they'd ended up, there had to be a way out, and the sooner they found it the better. Lucil's team had almost certainly noticed the blast, and would probably be on their way. They could walk right into another ambush, and the thought of Lightning being locked up again did not sit well with Hope.

_Over my dead body._

He reached Snow, sitting up fully and leaning against the wall next to the snoozing giant. After taking a moment to let his vision stop swimming, Hope elbowed Snow's arm a few times to wake him.

"Wh-what?" Snow mumbled, shaking his head clear. He rubbed his eyes with his cuffed hands and glanced around the room, finally spotting Hope to his right.

"Hey, you came to," Snow said hoarsely, cracking a smile and looking, for all the world, like he was perfectly at ease in the PSICOM prison. "How's the head wound?"

"Still smarts, but it's pretty small," Hope replied. He fished around in his pocket and produced a tiny bottle. "Good thing Serah gave me some aspirin. Did they take our canteens?" He felt around his waist and found that the belt was missing.

"Yours fell off somewhere along the way, I think, but they didn't _take_ anyone's. Guess they don't plan on killing us off for a while. Anyway, here's mine." Snow pulled the canteen out of its pouch and passed it over, and Hope quickly took two of the pills with as small an amount of the water as he could manage.

"So," Snow began, apparently returning to his wide-awake, mischievous self, "while we let that medicine sink in, wanna keep me entertained with the rest of your 'tale of woe'? I've still gotta know how you set Light off this time."

"Ugh," Hope groaned, realizing that it was now inevitable, and acknowledging that while Snow's flash grenade plan didn't pan out, it probably would have saved them if not for the reinforcements. He owed him that much.

"Fine, but only because you _almost _saved my skin, Hero." Hope took a deep breath, wondering if Snow would laugh his head off, or maybe – just maybe – offer some brotherly support.

"And it's not so much a tale of 'woe' as it is one of unpleasant consequences," he qualified.

"Okay, if that's the case, what exactly did you _do_ that led to these consequences?" Snow asked, trying unsuccessfully to tone down his smirk.

"Well," Hope started, regretting the decision to even consider giving in to peer pressure, "I sort of… I mean, I _did_ take Light's gunblade while she was in the clinic."

"What?" Snow exclaimed, looking bewildered at the concept of any living being ever _wanting_ to do that, much less taking action. "Do you have a death wish?"

"_No_, I just really wanted to fix the thing – and make it even better. It was so damaged, you know, practically crying out to be repaired, and…"

Hope hesitated, steeling himself for the coming onslaught of laughter.

"I wanted it to be a surprise." He hated the way his voice had gotten so quiet – hated the tingly warmth he could feel spreading over his face.

And more than anything, he hated Snow's knowing look at that moment.

"Hmm," was all the response that came from Snow at first, as he rubbed his scruffy chin thoughtfully. When he finally spoke up, his words were completely unexpected.

"After what you did, there's really only one thing for me to say." He extended his cuffed hand, taking hold of Hope's and giving it a firm shake.

"Well played, Hope." He smiled and gave him a wink, simply repeating, "Well played."

Mouth agape, Hope simply couldn't leave it be. "How could you _congratulate_ me for being so thoughtless? Light was right to be angry – I should have asked permission, not violated her trust for some selfish notion." He sat back and crossed his arms, irritated that Snow didn't seem to understand the gravity of the situation.

"That may be," Snow said, shrugging and letting out a low chuckle, "but my point still stands."

"I don't see why," Hope muttered angrily.

"I'll _tell_ you why, lover-boy." Hope whipped his head around to shoot a hostile glare at Snow, but the man forged on without missing a beat.

"Because after this storm blows over, and you know it will, she's gonna _like_ that gunblade. And furthermore, seeing as no one else has the balls to risk death by Lightning to get her attention, you'll never have to worry about competition. So I reiterate," he paused, giving Hope a light punch to the shoulder, "Well played."

Despite still feeling irked, Hope had to admit that Snow was making a lot of sense logically. If he was right, there was definitely a light at the end of the tunnel. He took a few moments to mull it over.

"Thanks," he said quietly, allowing a smile to form. "But I should probably still apologize."

"Heh, definitely," Snow agreed. "Even if there _wasn't_ anything to apologize for, I get the feeling that saying sorry would go a long way with Light. How do you think Serah's survived all these years? I mean, to _me _she's perfect, but realistically, not even Serah can avoid rubbing Lightning the wrong way."

"That's Serah though – she's her sister," Hope replied, unimpressed. "She's got permanent immunity that no one else does."

"Not true." Snow gave him a sly look. "Don't know how you did it, but you've got special status too – you'd have to do something truly despicable to make her lay a hand on you."

_Why does that sound mildly discouraging?_

"I'll keep that in mind." Hope's headache had toned down a great deal, and he was more than ready to change the subject and get to work on a way out.

_First things first. This will have to be a joint effort._

"Snow, let me see those cuffs."

Hope inspected the metal rings, glowing blue with the electromagnetic energy that locked each side and travelled through the thick, wrapped wire between. He pulled a small, flathead screwdriver from one of the many coveralls pockets and inserted it into a barely visible gap between the exterior plating of the right-hand cuff and the link wire, pushing against the edge at an angle and popping open that section of the metal cuff. The exposed wires were at his mercy, and he made quick work of shorting out the electrical current with a small pair of insulated pliers and dismantling the entire device.

"Thanks! Too bad Sis didn't get to see that little display of talent," Snow said with a smirk.

"Training, you mean. At least we have one less thing to worry about." Hope smiled a little sheepishly, setting the harmless restraints aside.

Considering their predicament, he glanced around at nothing in particular until his eyes fell on the tiny, barred window far above them in the opposite wall. It was no larger than an air vent, but wavering rays of daylight were able to filter in.

Snow followed Hope's line of sight, looking more thoughtful than perplexed about the situation. "Well," he said finally, "looks like we've got two options: blast open the door and try our luck with the inside of this completely unfamiliar facility, or blow a hole in this concrete wall straight to the outdoors."

"How on Pulse did you come to _that_ conclusion?" Hope asked, nonplussed. His own plans would have involved trying to establish communications with the team on the outside, or most likely tricking the guards somehow once they found opportunities in the system.

"Just seemed like the fastest options," Snow said casually. "I don't know what you had in mind, but I say the faster we get out, the faster we can help the rest of the expedition and get word back to headquarters about this outpost."

Hope realized that he needed to be more specific. "No, Snow, I agree with you there – what I want to know is how you think it's _possible_ to go through with either one of those plans. Didn't they take all your grenades?"

"Yeah, but you can't think for one second that I'd try to use a grenade for a controlled explosion in this tiny cell – pretty sure it'd blast through _us _more than it would the wall!" Snow said with a laugh, fishing around in an inside pocket of his overcoat. "That's what _this_ is for." He held aloft a small, rectangular chunk of putty-like material.

"Is that… C-4?" Hope had seen it before, in the possession of the demolitions crew that sometimes accompanied teams to the field for special excavation projects. The compound, from what he could tell, was incredibly powerful, and he'd heard that its fumes were toxic. Hope gave Snow an incredulous look, wondering what plethora of ballistics the budding pyromaniac kept stuffed in his outerwear.

"Yeah. Never know when it might come in handy," Snow replied proudly, tossing the block into the air and catching it. He began searching through other pockets of his coat, and gradually his smile turned into a frustrated scowl.

"Those PSICOM lackeys must've grabbed the blasting cap with the grenades," he huffed, beginning to look defeated. "Stuff's useless without its detonator."

"Can't we try and find some other way to set it off?" Hope's knowledge of explosives was limited, but he knew enough to realize that there was _always_ an alternative method to make unhappy chemicals – or people, for that matter – go boom.

"Maybe if one of us had a gun, we'd always have extra bullets, but that's not the case here," Snow said with finality.

"Actually," Hope corrected, producing a large incendiary round from his pocket, "I forgot to give Light the extra round that came out of her gunblade. Don't think she'll miss it."

"Oh yeah, we can _definitely_ work with that." Snow's excitement returned as soon as he laid eyes on the bullet, and he snatched it out of Hope's hand greedily. "Let's do this!"

Over the next hour, the two of them put their heads together and worked feverishly to complete the setup for their explosive escape plan. Snow broke apart the round's cartridge and created a makeshift detonator for the smaller C-4 block, shaping the compound and positioning the ignition source to be electrically charged and blast outward, and Hope reconfigured the electrical circuitry from the cuffs, stretching out the wiring to as safe a distance as possible. The line to the detonator went from the farthest inside corner of the room, across from the door, to a large crack at the juncture of the exterior and interior walls near the window. Finally, Snow secured the malleable explosive in the gap.

As they ducked in the corner, Hope hovered over the electrical connection, holding the exposed wire mere centimeters from its connection with the power cell from the electro-lock cuffs.

"Sure hope this works," he said quietly, and then to Snow, "All set. Ready?"

"Just a sec." Snow moved around behind Hope and braced himself against the corner walls, effectively making a shield.

"Snow, you don't have to block –"

"Yeah, I do. Trust me, I can take a harder hit than you if that explosion turns inward," Snow said, immovable. "Besides, Light would kill me if I let you get taken out."

"I don't appreciate the veiled insult to my masculinity, but thanks anyway," Hope said with a chuckle, earning a thumbs-up from Snow.

"On three then. One, two…

"…three!"

Hope completed the circuit, and in the next moment the holding cell was filled with the concussive sound and force of the explosion, knocking both of them into the wall as it shredded through the thick outer structure and flung bits of concrete, stirring up a massive dust cloud in the room and reducing the area surrounding the original crack in the wall to a pile of rubble beneath a gaping hole.

The blast instantly set off an alarm system. Hope slowly got to his feet in the aftermath, bits of debris falling off his back as he coughed out the powdery substance in the air.

"Snow?" He saw his friend flattened out on the floor and immediately bent down and rolled him over. The blaring alarm had Snow alert in seconds, minus understandable disorientation.

"Maybe we overdid it," Snow spluttered, choking on the dust in the air, and Hope quickly helped him up.

"Maybe, but it did the job. We've gotta hurry!" Hope grabbed Snow by the arm, pulling him through the rubble and out of the cell. Blinking in the sunlight, Hope could see Sergeant Lucil's team on the far side of a clearing, already engaging the main force of the PSICOM unit, and he was overjoyed at the sight of Lightning plowing through their ranks with the modified gunblade.

So overjoyed, in fact, that he barely noticed a fair-sized portion of the unit had broken off and was charging in their direction.

"Hope, run!" Snow dragged him away and was already moving far from the blast zone and around the perimeter of the compound. As they rounded a corner, they ran right into another PSICOM sentry, and Snow leveled him with a sharp right-hook and snagged his assault rifle, spinning around to fire a spray of bullets behind them into the approaching soldiers from the field. Hope knelt down by the disoriented guard and grabbed him by the collar, making direct eye contact with a threatening gaze.

"Where are the others? How do I find them?" he asked firmly.

"Th-they're in the main holding cell, j-just turn left at the first hall, make a right at the end and-and follow that passage to the last door," the guard said shakily.

"Give me your key," Hope demanded, and the staggered man quickly produced a small access keycard from his uniform, trembling as he handed it over. Hope unceremoniously dropped the PSICOM soldier and rushed to the entrance.

Peering inside, he found the main p-way was empty, all the small outpost's forces having rushed to the multiple emergencies sprung on them. He ran down the directed passages and found the rest of their team in a large, locked holding cell far in the back. Once the entire group was released, they split up in a crazed search for their much-needed weapons, and within minutes discovered the locker down a nearby hall and grabbed everything they could carry; Hope simply took back his boomerang and began gathering up Snow's grenade stash.

The battle was escalating outside the walls as louder and more frequent bursts of gunfire met their ears, and Hope knew that it was only a matter of time before trouble caught up with them. They seriously needed to get back into the open.

"Snow's still outside, and he needs cover! Go on ahead – I'll be right behind," he called to his GC comrades, and they gave him a quick "Roger that!" before heading back outside in pursuit of their leader.

_PSICOM __is __too __close __to __us __this __time. __We _have _to __cut __them __off._

* * *

End Note: PLEASE do not attempt to make a C-4 explosion, or any other kind of explosion for that matter, based on this - it probably wouldn't work, and the info is just from general knowledge of how detonation works from the internet. I am not liable for your stupidity if you try this at home! Snow is a professional :)


	9. There to Help You

A/N: In the midst of insanity for both myself AND my beta, I've still managed to get this chapter to be presentable for Wednesday :D Reviews could be the only thing that fuels me through the coming week, so PLEASE do review! Thanks to everyone who's helped me along so far – this is where the rubber meets the road :P

And of course, no chapter would be complete without some fun vocabulary:

*Volun-told: a phrase coined to mean one was technically "asked" to volunteer, but there wasn't really any choice in the matter; extensively used in the military

*4 mil socket: 4mm socket for a ¼" drive on a ratchet, the smallest size socket for the smallest size drive, roughly equivalent to the 5/32" socket on SAE sets

*Turpentine: the meaning of turpentine as a solvent is irrelevant here, but this is a reference to a specific line to a Navy cadence that talks about coffee – "They say that in the Navy, the coffee's mighty fine (repeat). It looks like muddy water and tastes like turpentine (repeat)." Just because I can :P

Disclaimer: Square Enix owns it (yet again).

(revised on 26SEP11, because I was stupid and screwed up Maqui's age, initially)

There to Help You (again)

It was one thing to say that the team needed to approach their adversary with stealth, and something else entirely to _accomplish_ the deed. To those ends, Maqui, the reluctant but volun-told lookout, perched high among the branches with field binoculars, scanning for the likely signs of a PSICOM wilderness outpost.

When he finally came back down for the report, Lightning nearly pounced on the unfortunate young man.

"What did you see? How far off are they?" she demanded, growing impatient as he dusted the twigs and leaves out of his hair and clothes.

"Couldn't see it all, but there's a communications tower on the top of some building about…I'd say two kilometers ahead," Maqui rattled off a little nervously, adjusting the goggles that were permanently affixed to his head.

Sergeant Lucil considered their position and quickly settled on a course of action. "Alright, everyone stick close to the trees on the left until we have visual of the target; Farron, bring up the rear. I'll take point, and when I start to head into the woods, take cover there."

The soldiers babysitting Snuggles enthusiastically tied the restless wyvern's leash to a nearby tree, glad to be rid of their burden, but before the team moved on, Lucil grabbed Maqui by the shoulder and said quickly, quietly, "Radio the third team about PSICOM – tell them to head out here ASAP. Got it?"

"Roger that," he replied, pulling out his handheld transceiver and making the call, and then jogging to catch up with the others.

In no time, the trail had begun to widen, and Lightning could distantly see the gray walls of a compound through the trees ahead. On cue, Lucil forged into the underbrush and the rest of them followed suit, moving as quietly as possible toward the goal. Lightning caught a glimpse of a passing two-man patrol at the end of the path as she stepped under the cover of the wilderness, visually confirming the PSICOM uniforms and grateful that they hadn't waited a moment longer to leave the open trail.

The tree line stopped abruptly, not twenty meters into their approach, and Lightning could see the full structure of the simple, one-storey PSICOM outpost through the tangled vines and branches, another hundred meters or so across a small clearing. It became apparent that the other side of the compound was much closer to the woods, and Lucil motioned the group to continue following her through the forested perimeter as they circumnavigated the exposed area and made their way closer to the facility.

It was an excellent plan, really, and had it not been for one unforeseeable disturbance, the element of surprise would have been on their side; when berserked screeching suddenly rang in her ears, Lightning knew they were in for trouble. Snuggles charged into their field of vision seconds later, attracting the attention of several PSICOM guards posted near the building and clearing's perimeter.

The confused young wyvern was running amok near the trees where the team had taken cover, looking every which way for familiar faces. Further frightened at the sight of the approaching, hostile soldiers, he turned tail and charged straight at the tree line. Lucil had apparently seen the need to seize their last opportunity to gain an attack advantage, and she signaled for weapons to the ready. As she raised her hand in the air, the team tensed in anticipation. Lightning took a breath, finger on the trigger and eyes on the target.

Sergeant Lucil's hand dropped. Instantaneously, Lightning exhaled into the shot, and the gunblade and pistol ammunition exploded out of the trees toward its destination, incapacitating much of the PSICOM patrol and sending Snuggles into a desperate flight away from the sound and toward the building. One of the remaining guards was already on his communicator, frantically relaying the information and effectively sounding an alert for the entire outpost. Another two mildly injured, but visibly shaken, soldiers stood with assault rifles aimed into the trees, looking unsure whether to return fire or retreat.

Sazh must have decided they didn't deserve to make the choice, and with a couple of well-aimed shots from his Procyons, the PSICOM soldiers dropped their weapons to the ground like hot coals, nursing their injured hands. He flashed Lightning a triumphant smile, but their short-lived moment of victory was quickly overshadowed as a much larger, better-equipped squad rapidly filed out of the compound and began to cross the clearing toward the injured patrolmen.

It was now or never, and they really wouldn't stand a chance if the approaching soldiers fired on them like sitting ducks in the dense underbrush. At that moment, Lucil extended her gunblade, and Lightning and the other GC's automatically did the same. When the PSICOM unit had reached the other guards on the field, Lucil made ready to take advantage of the miniscule lapse in the enemy's focus as they spoke with the injured men, and the rebel team sprang into action, leaping out through the trees and swinging wide to halfway encircle the closely-formed squad.

Even as the bullets whizzed by in the fray, nicking a shoulder-guard here or a boot toe there, Lightning and her Guardian Corps comrades kept up the steady block, leap, slash and shoot rhythm in the thick of the fighting, while Sazh and Maqui picked off stragglers that broke away from the main force with steadily accurate pistol play.

Despite holding their own against the sheer numbers of PSICOM soldiers, which had swelled a second time from a fresh wave of reinforcements, Lightning felt the tiredness begin to settle deeper into her muscles, and she knew it was only a matter of time before they gave out, unless the third team miraculously arrived early.

It was right then, mid-swing before Lightning's blade connected with another set of PSICOM armor, that an explosion across the field ripped through the air and turned everyone's attention to the compound, where a cloud of dust and smoke had enveloped the closest wall. An alarm system sounded as part of the PSICOM squad broke away from the fighting and headed straight for the emergency, and Lightning allowed herself a breath of relief before diving back into battle.

_Whoever or whatever that was, thank you._

The fight dragged on, but none of the fatigued team had dared to give up – not so long as there remained a hope for victory. Bodies of injured and fallen PSICOM were scattered around the area as their numbers dwindled, and soon the remaining few were surrounded by Sergeant Lucil and her team, surrender their only option. One by one, the assault rifles were dropped to the ground.

Maqui wasted no time in excitedly gathering up the weapons, but Lightning's focus was drawn to the building across the way, as the sight before her eyes completely confounded her.

Snuggles the Dastardly had bum-rushed the PSICOM formation on the far left of the building, biting and clawing and tossing bodies, causing all-around mayhem in the ranks. After his track record of dashing away from danger, she could not for the life of her figure out what was causing him to attack, but it all came together when a certain black bandanna bobbed among the disbanding PSICOM squad, and Snow charged through the back line of soldiers, followed closely by his faithful pet and backed by a cluster of blade-swinging Guardian Corps comrades.

The fight on Snow's end was not quite over, and Lightning was compelled to get back into action. Lucil and the others had their prisoners under control, so she took off at a sprint toward the new battle front, along with Sazh and another three team members. Upon their arrival, the struggling remnants of PSICOM's forces were sandwiched between a raging wyvern and company and several fierce gunblade wielders, and in a matter of minutes, every single one of them had laid down arms. The last PSICOM fighter standing, weapon raised high in the air, was their unit commander.

"Cease fire!" he shouted, and Snow reined in the thrashing Snuggles while every other rebel member trained their muzzles on the only armed enemy in sight.

"We admit defeat," he said coldly, tossing the assault rifle aside, but keeping his hands raised to eye-level. "But if I may ask, how have we in any way provoked this attack? I think my men deserve an explanation before you slaughter them."

Lightning was unnerved by the statement, considering her earlier feelings.

_Did I really intend to wipe them out? Would it have solved anything?_

Snow, ever ready to jump the gun, was quick to answer.

"Are you kidding? Your unit ambushed my team in the middle of a search and rescue operation! And that's only the most direct reason I can list – don't get me started on the entire PSICOM enterprise and its controlling schemes for that last several years!" Snow's rage was getting the better of him, but another voice broke into the tense atmosphere, effectively defusing his rant.

"I've got a much better question." Hope casually strode into the circle of his comrades, giving the man at its center a mercilessly frigid look, the intent behind which Lightning found difficult to determine. It was not anger, not vengeance…

_Judgment._ _The __completely __justified __kind__ – __backed __by __cold, __hard __facts._

"Ask anything," the unit commander said unaffectedly, meeting the stare of the unfamiliar young man. "The longer you waste time, the longer headquarters will have to notice the lapse in our communications."

Hope laughed dryly at the defiant response. "Not so sure about that," he said flippantly. "Last they heard from you, let me think…oh yes, the antenna will temporarily be down for repairs after an attack from some pesky wyverns. Pretty sure they'll understand the 'lapse in communications,' as you put it."

The PSICOM ranks looked visibly defeated now, and their leader's stoic façade had been shaken. He quietly responded, "In that case, go ahead with your question, but I may be disinclined to answer."

"You will, if you value your life," Hope said in a low voice. "What information do you have on Bartholomew Estheim?" He held a thin, brown file in his hand, likely the main reason behind the sudden interrogation.

"You refer to prisoner number 731 from the missing evacuation transport, I presume," the commander said condescendingly, obstinately clinging to his dignity. "Obviously, you're aware that its passengers are nowhere to be found; therefore, we know nothing. Even if they had survived, who would waste their time searching for a single deviant citizen of Cocoon?"

"His _son.__"_

Hope was livid, and Lightning silently prayed that he would have the presence of mind to refrain from strangling to death a potential source of intelligence. Had Alexander still been attached to him, she was certain that the gargantuan eidolon would have descended upon the PSICOM leader and crushed him into tiny, indistinguishable pieces. As it was, Hope had yet to actually make a move toward him, and she released the breath she'd been holding.

The commander seemed to suddenly realize _exactly_ who it was posing the question, and though his mouth opened, he could not continue.

"You're a liar," Hope said icily, "but that's all the more reason to keep you alive until the truth comes out." His focus shifted past the hateful man in the center of their view, directly toward Sergeant Lucil, who had just arrived with the rest of her team and the handful of PSICOM troops from across the field.

"Time to lock 'em up!" she announced with gusto, obviously not privy to the exchange that had just taken place, and the entire Guardian Corps force, sans Lightning, began to herd the disarmed outpost unit into their own compound for detainment.

The tension in the air had been suffocating, and it took a few minutes before the repellent aura surrounding Hope faded away. Snow was busily tending to Snuggles, anchoring the leash and searching his pockets, undoubtedly for some sort of treat. Lightning's feet remained planted in place; she didn't really know what to say or where to begin, but she was compelled to do something for Hope before he let the mess of emotions that had been stirred up sink in and fester.

He sat in silence against the bland, ashy wall of the building, the classified file cast aside as he absently traced the edge of his boomerang. Mind made up, Lightning walked over, sat down on the grass in front of him, and did the one thing that seemed natural at the time – pulled out her gunblade and began cleaning it with a worn-out cloth. A few minutes passed in silence before she finally thought up something useful to say.

"So, Hope," she began, stopping to see if he was listening.

All he managed was a short "Hmm," but it was sufficient.

"You were right." She paused and let the words settle.

His curiosity got the best of him, and he finally asked, "About what?"

"The unit commander being a liar, and his usefulness for intel," Lightning clarified as unaffectedly as possible, but then surprised herself by adding, "among other things."

The little impromptu addition made more progress than she could have wished. Hope completely abandoned the boomerang, looking up and meeting her gaze, which had since risen from the cleaning task in anticipation.

"I'm not sure what you mean." And he truly wasn't – that much was obvious in his inquisitive eyes.

Flustered, but for once in no position to hide it, Lightning sighed at the karma which had come to call. "My gunblade – you were right about that. It was a total wreck before, but since you fixed it…" She paused, seeing the smile that had begun to form on Hope's formerly dejected face, and she swallowed the fluttering feeling that began to rise from her stomach to her throat before continuing, eyes back down on the blade.

"...it's worked better than ever."

Lightning passively watched as Hope reached out to lift the gunblade from her hands and hold it there between them, turning it over to inspect the recent damage. Apparently satisfied that it hadn't been too abused, he placed it back down in her hands and smiled widely.

"That's all I wanted to hear," he said earnestly, but his expression turned serious at another thought, and he looked down at his hands.

"I apologize for not asking, though. It…really wasn't the best decision."

Lightning felt a new wave of guilt over her first, decidedly scathing reaction, and she instinctively reached over and lifted Hope's chin to face him, making an effort to communicate forgiveness – and her own repentance – more through her eyes than she could with words.

"It's okay," was all she actually said, but the message got across. Gone was his downcast expression, replaced by a sweet, heartfelt smile. It was so innocent, Lightning was afraid that if she blinked she would mistake him for fourteen again, but this time the image of the younger Hope didn't cloud her vision – nothing changed about his face, or his form, or the way he stood up and offered his hand that made her see him as anything but the Hope she was _truly_ acquainted with.

_Why is that such a relief?_

* * *

"Snow, there are _other_ people who would like a turn on the long range radio, you know!" Hope called across to the second transport, where the doting fiancé was taking his sweet time using their only secure frequency in an epic conversation with Serah. Not surprisingly, Snow didn't even acknowledge the complaint.

Following the run-in with PSICOM and takeover of the outpost compound, the expedition crew had settled down for an evening of relaxation before daring to take on the one remaining lead to the northwest. All except the unfortunate third team, that is, thanks to the new responsibility of keeping an eye on the prisoners and re-establishing communications with PSICOM headquarters, so as not to arouse suspicion.

In celebration of their victory, Maqui had busted out the stock of marshmallows from the food provisions, the one treat-like substance available, and the scattered clusters of friends sat roasting them around a few small campfires.

"Man, Dajh'll be up past his bedtime before we can talk if Snow doesn't hurry up and finish," Sazh said, shaking his head. "But I know he's all excited about today – that explosion pretty much turned the tide for us back there, and I heard it had something to do with his 'indispensible' C-4 stash." He laughed, apparently amused at the way the situation had played out.

"You heard right," Hope confirmed, himself smirking at the memory of how the makeshift bomb came to be. "But he probably didn't tell you that one of Light's incendiary rounds made the detonation possible."

"So_that__'__s_ where the last one went," she mused, and then gave him a half-hearted glare.

"Guess you _did_ notice, then." Hope's quiet response left him feeling silly for being even the tiniest bit surprised that Lightning was as obsessive about her ammunition as she was about everything else.

Maqui seemed to think that it was the funniest thing he could possibly have said, and he exploded with laughter. "This from the guy who tracked down the _exact_ 4 mil socket for his stupid ratchet set, all because the grooves on mine didn't match up _just __right_."

Hope groaned in embarrassment, and the situation went from bad to worse when Maqui, in his hysteria, violently jerked the skewer holding his marshmallow and flicked it across the fire and directly onto Hope's arm, raised to block the flaming projectile.

Hissing and swearing under his breath at the searing hot marshmallow fused to his skin, Hope moved to pry off the offending object, but Lightning intervened, stopping his hand short with her own.

"Let it cool down, first," she quietly ordered. "Burns can be tricky, but you'll lose less skin that way." She let go of his hand and carefully inspected the burn site, lightly blowing on the marshmallow to cool it down.

"R-right. I'll just…clean it later, I guess," he said with a nervous laugh.

The exchange was one of the more surreal moments Hope had experienced – an odd mixture of pain and pleasure. Not that he would wish another marshmallow burning on himself, but it seemed the closer Lightning got to him, the more he realized that comfort was not the only emotional benefit involved.

Blushing fiercely, but graciously covered by the distorted, orange glow of the fire, his main concern was the way his pulse had picked up from pumping all that blood to his face. Hope was certain that she wouldn't miss the jumping of the veins in his captive wrist, and he gently pulled his arm back.

"All the same, hate to let it go to waste," he said, twisting the entire arm around awkwardly and biting off the majority of the burned, sticky marshmallow from the back of his forearm. It was a messy affair, and more of it ended up smeared on his chin than eaten.

Lightning's eyes widened at his actions. "Why would you bother eating a charred one?"

"They're the best," he said matter-of-factly, swiping off sections of the mess on his face with his thumb and licking it off, but making hardly any progress. "Has a bite to it, kind of like the fire itself, instead of just being a fluffy wad of sugar."

Hope barely had time to notice the tiny, satisfied smile that Lightning wore before Sazh's chuckling rose in volume and was finally backed by an explanation.

"Never thought I'd see the day…" he started, but broke off in intermittent laughter, "…that you'd actually have a beard!" Sazh jokingly wiped away invisible tears, then dug around in his travel bag and pulled out a washcloth, throwing it directly in Hope's face with a final, "Now go wash up or it'll dry there."

"Fine." Hope grinned as he gave an exaggerated huff of exasperation, reluctantly standing to his feet and heading to the portable wash area.

_It's going to be a long night._

* * *

The wake-up call came at 0700 sharp – a courtesy in Sergeant Lucil's estimation –and Hope opened bleary eyes to face the inside of the cockpit. His right-side vision was distorted and jumpy as he sat up, and he belatedly realized that draping himself over the chair and sleeping with one side smashed against the seat back was probably not the best idea. Still unsteady as he dragged himself up, he immediately began smoothing down the unruly hair sticking up on one side.

Hope waited until the sounds of the other half-awake team members inside the transport died down as they went outside to prepare their rucksacks, and then he stumbled out of the cockpit. No sooner had he squatted down to gather his own supplies did Lightning step back into the main cabin, looking amused and holding out a small, steaming mug of something.

He was instantly perked up by the familiar smell of coffee, but somewhat self-conscious about the untamable bed-head, and he tried his best to play it off.

"Looks like I may survive the day after all," he said with a smile, reaching up to take hold of the offered drink; he sipped it and winced slightly at the bitterness.

"Just the instant, slap-in-the-face field-variety coffee – might as well drink turpentine, but then you'd miss out on the caffeine," Lightning qualified. Hope wondered if general morning agreeableness was something common to soldiers from years of practice, or if she was actually _trying_ to be accommodating.

"I'll take my chances," he replied, taking another sip before setting the mug aside to gather up the rest of his things and stuff them into the rucksack. As he did so, he felt the pressure of a hand against his head, and he looked up to see Lightning trying unsuccessfully to mash down the deviant hair, brow furrowed in concentration. Hope froze, unsure how to respond, and his only instinctive reaction was none too pleasing either – the telling warmth in his face had become the bane of his existence over the last couple of weeks.

Finally, Lightning let up and stepped back, shaking her head with a low chuckle. "I give up," she concluded. "You probably shouldn't sleep in such an awkward position next time – it's bad for posture… and your hair too, apparently." With that, she exited the transport down the ramp, leaving Hope to his usual routine of rehash and analyze.

_I__'__ve __got __to __pull __myself __together__… __wait, __she _knew _how __I __was __sleeping?_

* * *

Even after a somewhat disorganized start, the morning's expedition on the northwest trail began much like the day before, except that the two primary teams had consolidated. Only team three at the PSICOM outpost and a handful of GCs had stayed behind to watch the transports and act as the go-between communications post for the teams in the field and rebel headquarters.

Not far past the point that Lucil's team had previously reached before bushwhacking into the trees, Snuggles sniffed out the remnants of an emergency meal pack – the kind that would have been available on a Cocoon evacuation craft, a clear indicator that the survivors most likely had passed that way. The trail dragged on for another four or five kilometers before more evidence was found; evidence of a much more unpleasant nature.

Down a barely noticeable side-trail, they came across two large stones that had conspicuously been placed in front of raised ground, which upon closer inspection turned out to be shallow graves. Hope felt literally sick at the sight, and he opted to remain a few paces away while some of the others tried to identify the bodies. The two skeletons had luckily both retained their prisoner identification wrist-bands, and Lucil rapidly cross-checked the numbers with the detailed list she carried of members presumed onboard, courtesy of the file Hope had uncovered.

Several torturous minutes later, Lightning approached him, bearing the news.

"Hope," she began, and he looked up, fearing the worst. "It wasn't him."

He breathed out heavily, squatting down on the ground and taking a moment to let his head stop swimming from the anxiety that had wracked his mind.

The upside to their discovery was its undeniable proof that the survivors had in fact taken that trail, and furthermore, were travelling of their own volition – not as prisoners, but as comrades, taking care of each other up to the point of a proper burial.

The next couple of hours were relatively uneventful, but still the trail continued on. Just when they were starting to have doubts about whether it would lead to anything substantial, a deep ravine cut across the path, leaving the two sides separated by at least a couple hundred meters of treacherous, monster-riddled undergrowth and a wide stream to cross. A mixed pack of silver lobos and gorgonopsids were roaming through the area.

"This should be fun," Snow said with a smirk, tossing a grenade up and down in his hand.

"I'm thinking we should aim for stealth here, big guy – save the showy stuff for later," Sergeant Lucil corrected. "No telling whether PSICOM has more outposts than the one we found."

"Alright, alright," he conceded. "It's a great time-saver, though."

The crossing strategy was fairly straightforward. In order to avoid discharging ammo, Sazh and Maqui were in charge of anchoring and removing two rappel lines with Snow and Snuggles as close bodyguards, while Lucil would lead the advance with two groups of GC soldiers flanking either side of the climbing crew. Lightning was to bring up the rear, along with Hope, who would set his sights at an angle to each side and take out distant targets before they could approach.

Falling in behind the formation at the base of the ravine after a short climb down, Hope activated the electrical field function on the outer rim of his boomerang and took aim in the four-second time-delay. He let it fly, the highly-charged edge slamming into the first of several distantly approaching silver lobos, sending sparks from the electrocuted animal as it made contact, and then returning harmlessly to its master.

By that time, the group had begun the advance across the ravine, but the right flank was soon encumbered by a couple of particularly fierce gorgonopsids, leaving an exposed area for Snow and Snuggles to take up the slack in protecting Sazh and Maqui. Snow had freed the wyvern's wings and given Sazh leash control to use both arms for the fight, and Snuggles persisted in dive-bombing the lobo in front of them enough to distract it from Snow's full-force blows.

In the thick of the fighting at the formation's back, Lightning and Hope took turns defending right or left, depending on which angle had the most long-range targets. Falling into the motion of two-person combination defense and offense gave Hope a feeling of nostalgia, despite the fact that they were surrounded by a pack of monsters snarling with animosity or yelping in their death throes.

As they crossed the shallow stream, two lobos approached from both sides at close range simultaneously, making it impossible for Lightning to take out the separate targets, and Hope was forced to use one of his least favorite boomerang mods. He extended the row of bladed edges and slashed across the body of the creature as it leapt at him, spraying blood onto his clothes and face. As he fell backward into the water, the lobo landed on top of him, and he hastily shoved the still-twitching beast off and got to his feet. Cringing internally at the fleeting look of shock from Lightning, he turned away and retracted the boomerang's blades.

By the time Lucil and the anchoring crew reached the base of the ravine's far side, the team's fighters were a sight to behold – soaked, bloody, and generally exhausted. Even when the climbing lines were tossed and secured and they began, two by two, the climb to safety, the dwindling members on the field continued to pick off approaching beasts on the prowl.

As Lightning and Hope, the last pair leaving the fight, made their way up the lines, Hope looked up and over to see that his partner was quickly outpacing him and had beaten him to the top. His vision was hazy and further impeded by the sweat dripping in his eyes when he finally crawled over the edge, and he collapsed on the ground for a few moments, completely spent from the combined stress of the previous day, the long hike, and the charge through hostile wildlife.

Hope stopped panting and began to relax, looking up at the canopy of trees over the path and letting his eyes readjust. What came into focus in the foreground was the last thing he expected – the sharp, gleaming tip of an elegantly crafted spear was pointed straight at his face, wielded by a wild-looking girl sporting a simple fur ensemble and beaded décor, an uncanny resemblance to one particular friend's outfit.

_Vanille._

"Get _up_!" Whoever-she-was didn't mince words.

Sitting up unsteadily and instinctively backing away from the weapon, he turned and saw that Lightning and the others were nearby, surrounded by a number of similar fur-clad strangers with decorative weapons, several of them already bound with primitive ropes. The lot of rebels were gathered together and apparently disarmed, looking far too weary to put up much resistance.

_Were they…waiting for us?_

Lightning herself did not seem willing to come quietly, not that he was surprised, and she made to fight the gruff-looking man who attempted to take her gunblade.

"Drop it, or your friend 'ere gets a permanent necklace," the man ordered in a familiar accent, backing away and nodding in Hope's direction, and Lightning's gaze instantly snapped away from her opponent and over to him. Hope saw something bordering on fear in her eyes, and it was then that the cold, metal edge of the spearhead pressed into the side of his neck, already beginning to cut the skin. He felt a warm trickle running down to the collarbone and gulped.

Lightning dropped her eyes to the dirt and exhaled in defeat, holding out the gunblade for their captors to take, and the spear against Hope's neck backed off to hover in front of him threateningly as before.

_Well, this is humiliating. Thwarted by Vanille's less-nice relations._


	10. Not Supposed to Wait

A/N: Okay, so I owe everyone a BIG apology for the lateness of this update, especially since I've prided myself on getting the next chapter out every Wednesday :P Long story short, this week was nuts for myself AND my beta, so she just got to read over the chapter today, and I'm uploading it NOW. Blame the Navy. Anyway, please don't give up on me – I really want to hear some reviews for this one, especially since it was partially written through a bout of writer's block. I promise the next update's timeliness will be directly proportional to the amount of reviews from this one! OH, and I have lots of fun vocab for everyone.

* "Bush hippie nutters": borrowed the phrase from a reviewer, so here's a shout-out to Kaenin's comedic timing :P (please accept as a peace offering for the pain of waiting for this update)

*Aerma: The name of this village, based on a word from the Qiang minority in Sichuan province, China. In their own language, they call themselves _erma_, meaning "ourself." The "A" was added for clarity of pronunciation and a more similar feel to the known village of Oerba.

*Jaspe: The elder's given name. French like Vanille, it is the name of a type of marble or granite: Jaspe Du Var (Breccia) "Quarried at Pourcieux, Toulon, Var, France." "Cream fragments with brilliant red filler." "Jaspe Du Var (Breccia) or **Jaspe ****Oriental**." (from "List of the World's Marbles," Through The Ages, mag., (circa 1920s) Nat. Assoc. of Marble Dealers/MIA) OR Jaspe Granite, Colombia

*Mantrap: as opposed to a booby trap, mantraps are designed to capture prey (human or animal) in a deep pit, rather than severely injuring or killing them.

Disclaimer: Square Enix owns this, but I almost feel entitled after going through this week…almost, but not so much.

(revised 30SEP11)

Not Supposed to Wait

Lightning had never considered herself to be much of a pessimist – nor an optimist for that matter; she couldn't care less whether the glass was half empty or half full, and would have simply downed the drink and moved on. In this particular case, however, even her realist's perspective was wavering toward the negative. It was one thing for the survivors to have evaded the clutches of PSICOM in the area, but something entirely different for them to somehow make it through a ravine of ravenous beasts_and_ a clan of hunters who made said beasts into clothing. She was beginning to doubt they had gotten that far, and wondered if Hope had come to the same conclusion.

Looking up from her thoughts as the group continued their march down the trail, wrists bound behind them and prodded along by their silent captors, Lightning could easily see that Hope was not in the best of spirits. He seemed to be mindlessly staring at the back of the soldier in front of him; in contrast, the other team members never relaxed in their state of alertness. When they were led down the left branch of yet another fork in the path, the weary soldiers seemed to collectively tense, and Snow became noticeably restless.

"Can't you at least tell us where we're going?" he asked in vain for the third time in an hour. The resounding silence was filled only by his frustrated grunt of complaint.

The sun was getting low when they finally reached the destination, exhausted and sore to the point that the sight before them lost some of its shock factor. There, in the side of a cliff and among the trees at the end of the trail was an extensive network of caves, huts, and bridges criss-crossing between the two. Large, opaque solar panels were mounted at an optimal angle high on the cliff's face, and Lightning was puzzled at the presence of an advanced energy system in the midst of such a clearly primitive community.

As the expedition team was herded through the trees and huts, closer to the cave-riddled cliff, a number of villagers glared accusingly at what they surely perceived as captured intruders, and Lightning was relieved to be out of their sight when they came to a stop in front of a larger cave entrance at the base of the cliff. Its opening was covered with an elaborately decorated wooden panel, and one of the men at the front of their group stepped out to enter a door made into the panel's center. They waited a few minutes before he reemerged, brandishing his spear with a purpose. Showing more intelligence than Lightning had originally anticipated, the silent leader of the hunters motioned to his men to single out Snow, Lucil, Hope, and herself, and they were pushed toward the door.

"Hey, what's the big idea?" Snow protested, apparently not a fan of leaving the rest of the group outside with the hostile villagers.

"Don't sweat it, Snow," Sazh said with calm firmness. "Go settle this mess – we'll be waiting."

Snow gave him a determined nod as he ducked into the low doorway, and they followed him inside. Much like Snow, Sergeant Lucil seemed on edge and mentally prepared for a confrontation, but Hope's completely unresponsive demeanor was starting to bother Lightning; she brushed it off with the assumption that he was just keeping emotions in check.

The first distinguishable feature of the broad cave was its array of phosphorescent crystals gleaming on the roof and walls, shedding pale green light into a smoky haze and down onto what could be none other than the leader of the village, as evidenced by his ornamental beaded sash and black, embroidered headscarf. The old man sat cross-legged in the center of the room on an expansive fur rug, smoking a bizarre pipe and regarding the new arrivals with something like disinterest, but closer to understanding; he showed no signs of hostility, or even surprise for that matter. Lightning and the others were forced to the edge of the rug, facing down the strange man a few meters across from them.

"Sit," he instructed simply, and they all took a seat on the cold, stone floor, as the spear from their silent escort warned them not to dare touch the fur.

"Hmm, most interesting bunch yet," the old man said thoughtfully, pulling out the curiously angled pipe and tapping his chin with the lip of it. "What brings you here?"

"As far as I can tell, your little pack of bush hippie nutters _brought_ _us __here_," Sergeant Lucil enunciated, venting some frustration. "It's not like there was a choice involved."

"No need to get so upset," he said in a calm but raspy voice, puffing on the pipe. "Clearly you were out here in the middle of nowhere for _some_reason, and if we 'bush hippie nutters', as you say, had not dragged you to the village, you and your friends would undoubtedly be either dead or at the bottom of a pit by now."

_Gotta give the guy credit for keeping his cool._

Hope spoke up at those words, finally showing signs of life. "How can you be so sure about that? We don't even know who you are, so why should we trust you?"

The old man let out a short laugh, choking a little on the smoke, and said, "Oh yes, pardon me for skipping on the introduction. I'm the elder of this village, Aerma Lan Jaspe – just Jaspe, if you don't mind. Charged to be a living vessel of the culture and history of the last original inhabitants of Pulse, I do indeed know everything there is to know about this place." He paused, knocking out some ash from the pipe before continuing. "And you are…?"

"Hope… Estheim," he replied, anticipation in the tone.

"Hmm," the old man began, looking away as he became lost in thought for a minute, but he eventually sighed heavily at losing whatever it was he had tried to recall. "Lovely name, as it is, but I wouldn't hand it down. So tell me, Hope – why are you here?"

Lightning could sense Hope's irritation about the comment, but he let it blow over, then coolly explained, "We're looking for the survivors from the crashed ship southeast of here, and we think they headed this way."

"Oh yes! I remember the night Cocoon went dark, the night that hunk of metal blazed a trail through the sky – lookouts sighted it, and the very next day we sent a scouting party to find the wreckage. Imagine my surprise when they returned with a massive group of confused, defenseless yuppies—"

"They _were_ here, then!" Hope interrupted excitedly, but he instantly clamped his mouth shut at a menacing growl from the guard on the other side of Lightning. She couldn't help but return the gesture with a barbed glare, and the man almost imperceptibly inched back from her.

"Now now, no need to get defensive," the elder remarked, smoking the pipe lazily and taking his sweet time.

_I couldn't care less if patience is a virtue. We could be stuck here forever._

"We just need to know where they are _now_, and if there's a man among them named Bartholomew Estheim," Lightning said sharply, refusing to let her eye contact with the old man waver for even one millisecond.

"Young lady, I'm not certain how you can go through life with that level of intensity," he replied, looking amused, "but not everyone is so keen. Do you honestly expect me to recognise the name of a single survivor from five years ago, and what's more, know his current status? Have you any idea the mental acuity involved in remembering an entire civilization's culture?"

"To me, that only translates into more practice," Lightning immediately refuted, "so your memory has to be sharp enough to give us some _relevant _information." She was making an effort to be civil in hopes of getting better results, but that civility under pressure of agitation had a short shelf life.

This time, when the elder breathed out the smoke he had just taken in, it sounded more like a sigh of impatience. "There is something I need to know about you first," he said, pointing the pipe at Lightning and then over to Lucil. "You two, and according to my guard, several of your companions outside, are very clearly in uniform. From what I've seen and heard, the military bears ill will toward these unfortunate people who got away from them, so naturally I need some assurance of your intentions." For being so laid-back before, Jaspe was all business now.

Lightning was taken aback by the sudden change in demeanor, but this she could handle. She readily responded, "We're all Guardian Corps, a different branch of the military from PSICOM, which I take it you've met on bad terms. We only came in larger numbers to improve our chances of finding the survivors while ensuring our own safety."

The elder considered her words, but still looked unconvinced, and Sergeant Lucil decided to supplement the information. "You have to understand, we've been fighting against PSICOM for a few years now, and we were hoping to get to the survivors before they did. To tell you the truth, all these GC soldiers are really just an escort for Hope here. He's not military, and he's been trying to track down his father for the last five years. If you won't help us, at least help _him_."

"I see." The old man paused, regarding Hope in a new light. "The name gave away your relation, but I assumed it was a brother, maybe someone more distant. I am truly sorry for the delay; perhaps if you gave me a description, I could remember something of use."

Hope hesitated briefly, taking a breath. "He was…about my height now, with light brown eyes and light brown, graying hair, cut moderately short, and a little bit of a beard. He wore glasses, had perfect posture – probably still looked like a business man even in prison clothes." He cracked a little smile at that, and Lightning felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach just thinking about how he must have gone through those five years, faithfully carrying that memory until he could one day find its source.

_Think I'll personally request to 'interrogate' that unit commander when we get back – good way to let off steam._

"Now that you mention it," Jaspe said slowly, stopping to puff on the pipe, "I clearly recall a man fitting that description, very serious type – come to think of it, he was quite set on heading off to where Cocoon had landed as soon as possible. Now I understand his urgency."

"Wait a minute," Snow cut in, sounding concerned, but with a hint of annoyance. "You wouldn't just let him wander off into certain death in the wild out there, right?"

The elder chuckled at Snow's outburst, and Lightning was beginning to feel her grasp on self-control slipping away, but she calmed down again at his response.

"What do you think we are, barbarians?" the old man questioned rhetorically. "Those people were not our prisoners, and they certainly could have walked away at any time, but they knew better. No, the manner of their leaving the village was a more organized affair, and with the permission of your rather impatient friend here," he gestured toward Lightning, "I will tell you everything I know that could be of use in tracking them down."

Hope sighed loudly beside her, not with frustration, but in defeat, and lowered his head into his hands. She knew exactly what he was thinking.

_We just missed him._

* * *

It was well past dark when they were led stumbling through the village to some empty guest quarters on the far side. One of the hunters, finally no longer mute, explained that the huts had been constructed for the crashed ship's passengers originally, which served only to stir up the whirlwind of thoughts that Hope had spent the last twenty minutes trying to settle down.

If everything the elder had told them was true, and he really had no reason to doubt it, not a single person in the village would know anything further about Bartholomew Estheim's or his companions' whereabouts. It had been almost four years since their departure, and while it was comforting to think that his father had been intent on finding him, he wished the man had just stayed in the village. More than anything else, the roller-coaster effect of getting his hopes up and having them smashed to bits no less than five times in the space of four days was wearing him down.

_Everything would have worked out, if only PSICOM hadn't gotten involved. Typical._

In this particular instance, it all came down to an individual PSICOM soldier who had been captured in one of the hunters' mantraps nearly a year after Cocoon's landing; he was the only surviving member of a squad on a mission to locate and recapture the passengers from the prison ship. The man was an exception to the rule, and he wanted nothing to do with mistreating a bunch of evacuees and imprisoning them again. He told the village elder so, jumping at the opportunity to abandon his duties and save his own life.

That man was the reason Bartholomew had been able to leave, along with many of the others, on a trek to return to Cocoon. After being guided by village hunters through the perilous wilderness to the ship's crash site, the traitor PSICOM soldier was to lead them back to his outpost and plead their case, claiming that the survivors had rescued him and brought him back, and asking for their pardon to return to the new settlement and find their families. Hope could only imagine how _that_ scenario had played out, and he was once again furious at the unit commander's bold-faced lie. It was highly improbable that there was _another _PSICOM outpost in the vicinity of the crash site that soon after Cocoon's landing – in fact, he was surprised that they had established such a remote location so quickly. At the time, it couldn't have been more than a glorified campsite.

_Dad never should have trusted that plan. Guess his worst case scenario thinking was that it would be easier for me to find him in a prison than some primitive village in the woods._

Once they were shown into the huts, Hope flopped down on the nearest grass mat and stared up at the thatched ceiling, waiting for his eyes to give up and close. His mind did not want to shut down, but his body said otherwise, and it would eventually win out. From the sounds of voices in the dark room, he could tell that Snow, Sazh, and Lightning had settled into the hut – he almost smiled at the familiarity of that scene. Their conversation was quiet, but he tried to use it to take his mind off its former track.

"Well, it could have been a lot worse," Snow said in his undying optimism. "I mean, they basically confirmed that he's alive, so I say first thing tomorrow—"

Lightning huffed in exasperation, effectively cutting off the inspirational speech. "You should do Hope a favor and let him sleep. Save the pep talk for morning." Hope heard the rustling of grass as she settled down on a mat across the room.

"I'm with her this time, so let's sleep on it. I'm sure we'll figure it all out." Sazh was probably right, and Hope made a renewed effort to relax.

Before long, his eyelids dropped shut, plummeting him into an anxious sleep inhabited by PSICOM soldiers with the heads of lobos, chasing down and subsequently devouring the rebel team members, or alternately leading his father away in chains. A final manifestation featured the detestable unit commander wresting Lightning's gunblade from her, further proof of the nightmare's unreality, but when the commander rammed the blade into her abdomen and a fountain of blood spilled onto the ground, the shock factor violently thrust Hope back to consciousness. He sat up abruptly, breathing fast and breaking out in a cold sweat. His pulse had barely begun to slow when he was again startled by a soft voice on his right.

"Can't sleep?"

Hope gasped, as said murdered friend had somehow materialized at the side of his mat, arms resting on her knees. "Understandable. Need to vent?"

He took a moment to steady his breathing before he spoke. "I don't know… I mean, it's pretty obvious what the problem is. There's nothing I could say that you don't already know."

"The point is for you to get everything that's bothering you off your chest, whether I know about it or not." Lightning had a funny way of being passively insistent, and this was one of those times.

"Right, sure," Hope stammered tiredly, fumbling through his thoughts for where to begin, and finally striking at the heart of the matter.

"Hate to admit it, but there have been a few times when I wished this search would just end, one way or another. I want to find Dad, more than anything, but sometimes I think it's worse _wondering_ if he's alive out there than knowing something for sure, good or bad. Now, it seems like his being alive pretty much means that PSICOM has him locked up, and that will only make things harder for the Guardian Corps and the whole rebellion. You know exactly what I mean, don't you Light?"

She sighed, looking at him sympathetically in the dim light filtering through the slats of the walls, and he self-consciously rubbed at the dirt and blood still smeared on his face.

"It doesn't matter if they try and use him as leverage. You should know that we're going to see this through – one way or another, someone has to stop PSICOM. Even if you hadn't been a major part of what set it all in motion, things would have turned out more or less the same: as a hot mess. For all we know, they might have gone on to conduct experiments on all of the crystallized l'Cie without anyone batting an eye." Lightning's words were starting to have an effect, and he felt some of the weight lifting from his mind.

"Maybe you're right. I really wish you had woken up to a better future, though," he whispered, averting his eyes to the mat.

"There is no 'maybe' in that," she said with a smile, "and I think I woke up right on time."

"You're kidding, right? Just a couple more years and this political disaster might have been over, we would have improved the communications system, and I...," Hope hesitated, momentarily considering the next words before he muttered, "I would have been _your _age."

Lightning let out a short, muffled laugh, shaking her head. "What could two years possibly do for you, Hope?"

"I don't know, isn't that a nice big step for maturity?" He felt a little miffed.

"Look, you were on a fast track to twenty-one-year-old maturity at fourteen, and you'd already passed Snow's level. The only thing that's changed since then is… well, everything else," she finished off, sounding almost bashful and resting her chin on her arms.

Hope simply could not stop himself from smiling ridiculously at that, but he toned it down and managed a bit more tender look. "My original point still stands, Light." For some reason he could not name, he felt bolder than usual, and he reached over to tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear. "You wouldn't have been mixed up in another messy conflict."

He couldn't help but blink in surprise when she looked up with a wide-eyed expression, as opposed to the expected 'back the hell off' glare. Not one to expose vulnerability for more than absolutely necessary, she returned to a much more comfortable defensive posture, sitting up to lean against the wall and crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'm a soldier – it's not like I enlisted under delusions of an endless peace. At least with this, I'm not useless and bored."

_Really should have expected that from her._

"Light, you're never, ever going to be useless, and what's wrong with me wishing you had a little peace and security for once? Is that really so bad?" Hope asked quietly, trying not to let the emotion raise the volume of his voice and wake anyone.

"No, it's not wrong, just… unrealistic." She paused, considering something. "Wait, is that what woke you up, some nightmare about all the fighting we've been through?"

"More or less," he answered sheepishly.

"Don't let it get to you," Lightning said, trying to offer some reassurance. "I had a few pretty bad ones… back in the clinic, because of that virus. This is just exhaustion. We're all taking care of each other as a team, and you _know_ better than to worry about me."

"Heh, I feel entitled to a little concern. So, what happened in your nightmare?" Hope couldn't shake his curiosity, but he had doubts that it would be sated.

Lightning sighed, perhaps thinking that the fastest way to get back to sleep would be to just answer the question. That was the only explanation Hope could give for her subsequent willingness to comply.

"If you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine."

"Fair enough," he replied, but in that moment regretted the decision. "Umm, can I keep it simple?"

"Please do." She had to be tired.

"Okay, long story short, a bunch of lobo-headed PSICOM sentries were wreaking havoc, then the unit commander... stabbed you with your own gunblade," he said, stringing together the last part in a rush, glad to be rid of the words. "Your turn."

"Fine." Lightning adjusted her posture, seeming to distance herself from the situation. "I dreamed about fighting Orphan, but you weren't a l'Cie – I mean you were you _now_, not you _then_ – and he took you out. I couldn't do anything to help, not even throw a phoenix down."

"Wow, that would have been a disaster," Hope said with a forced smile, trying to lighten the mood. "Not the sort of dream I'd want to have again, at least not without giving me a decent weapon."

"Try eleven times," Lightning said almost inaudibly, making him feel like a complete fool.

"Sorry, that was… thoughtless," he remarked softly. Hope tentatively wrapped an arm around the rigid soldier and gathered her in to rest her head on his shoulder. "And I'm shutting up now." Aside from a sudden intake of breath, she didn't complain or fight back, so Hope felt a little twinge of satisfaction in his progress.

"Good." Lightning didn't say anything more, and Hope felt her breathing slow considerably, settling into an easy rhythm. It was already getting lighter outside – they needed to sleep sometime.

_Not worrying about anything else for now._


	11. Something, Something, Something

A/N: Sorry it's so late at night, but I promised a couple of people to get this up tonight, and I have triumphed! Please, please do read and review, so I can make the next chapter as great as possible. For once, there's no new vocabulary, but I DO have a mini culture reference, listed below:

*The 'grotto' idea in the first half of this chapter is a blend of the awesome grotto room in a massive house built by my father-in-law and the Japanese "onsen," just in case any of you wondered if I only included the whole concept as a convenient excuse to make people disrobe :P

Disclaimer: Belongs to Square Enix – much love for them.

(revised 30SEP11)

Something, Something, Something

"Rise and shine, Farron."

The sergeant's voice floated vaguely in the background of an otherwise pleasant, empty sleep, and Lightning curled up tighter in an attempt to shut it out. As she did so, she became keenly aware of the lack of a comforting, adjacent warmth, and her brow furrowed in irritation even before she felt the dull pain in her side. Sergeant Lucil was continually nudging her with a boot, and the annoying steel toe had likely bruised a rib from repeatedly poking the same spot when Lightning's eyes finally shot open. Rolling onto her back, her hand brushed against the rough straw mat, and her immediate concern was the absence of the familiar holster at her side. The soldier sat bolt upright, rapidly scanning the area and spying the gunblade on a mat across the room.

Relief turned quickly to confusion, and then to outright embarrassment as she remembered exactly what had transpired.

_How __did __I __not __wake __up_ before _him? __What __happened __to __my __internal __alarm?_

"You know, I could've taken your weapon in the middle of the night, and you'd be none the wiser," Lucil remarked with a smirk. "But I think I'll let this one slide."

Lightning tried desperately to ignore the color she felt rising into her cheeks, but the feeling intensified as she looked around at the empty hut – _everyone_, Hope included, had already woken up and left.

Standing to her feet and striding to her gunblade, she grabbed the holstered weapon and strapped it on, trying to salvage some dignity.

"It won't happen again." With that, she walked swiftly past Sergeant Lucil and out the door.

Once on the dirt path winding through the village, Lightning realised for the second time since awakening that she had no idea where to go; she was actually pleased to bump into Snow a few minutes later. He stood near the entrance to a multi-storey hut wrapping around the trunk of a massive tree, talking with a thin man wearing impossibly thick spectacles and carrying an overfilled basket of what appeared to be assorted potions. Strangely, there were also a number of bright, red ribbons in a bundle among the bottles. When Lightning approached, Snow cut the conversation and gave her a telling grin.

"So you finally decided to join us! Must've been having some pretty sweet dreams for once—hey wait a sec, take it ea—hrmmpphh!"

In the space of less than five seconds, she had approached, yanked the bandanna forward from Snow's head, stuffed the fabric into his gaping mouth, and stalked off.

_And __to __think __I __was _glad _to __run __into __someone._

Lightning continued to meander through the huts and villagers, ignoring the strange looks brought on by her foreign presence, and diligently monitor all directions. She would have liked to ask Snow where Hope had gotten to, but that option was eliminated as soon as he had opened his trap and confirmed her fears: that he witnessed a vulnerability, and was going to make her little 'sleepover' into a never-ending taunt. What bothered her even more than the mostly-expected teasing from Snow, and even from Lucil for that matter, were her own conflicting internal responses to the whole situation. Yes, she had been embarrassed – _more __than __I __should __have _– but she had ended up sleeping pretty soundly, and a tiny, insistent voice somewhere in the back of her head kept whispering, _you __know __you __liked __it._ Lightning shook her head clear and kept moving, determined to get on track for the day. Perhaps Sazh would be more understanding, if she could only find him.

Just as she rounded the corner, absently trailing a hand along the huge boulder that had forced the path's redirection, she came upon the strangest scene – a small lift ahead of her was descending down its shaft against the cliff face, clearly electrically operated, which would explain the need for the solar panels she had seen before. That was not, however, the shocking part. The person riding the lift, and subsequently stepping off to be greeted by the befuddled soldier, was Hope – minus coveralls and wearing a knee-length, coarsely-made fabric tunic tied at the waist, which looked very much at odds with his usual utility boots.

"Not my best look, right?" He gave a crooked smile, scratching at his arm where the sleeve ended. "These are way too itchy to come back in style! Pretty breathable though."

Lightning stared at him quizzically for several seconds, noting that his hair was also damp, like he'd just come out of the shower, but she hastily returned to her usual stern self and critically responded, "You look like a chocobo-herder from the dynastic era."

Maybe it was the dead-pan tone, because the comment had Hope doubled over with laughter, and Lightning let out a frustrated, "Tch, I was _serious_," before brushing past him and heading toward the lift.

_I __am __finding __and __confiscating __his _real _clothes __if __it __takes __all __day._

"They aren't up there, Light." She stopped in her tracks, turning to face him with a disbelieving glance. Being that predictable could become a flat-out hazard if she wasn't careful.

"What _is_up there, then?" Lightning fired back, redirecting the conversation.

Hope smiled playfully, offering a quick "I'll show you" as he approached and took her arm to pull her along, and she barely even registered a hint of instinct to jerk away. He led her to the lift and flipped a switch on the side once they were on the platform. "I was just heading back to the hut to get the next person anyway."

"What are you talking about?" Whatever was going on was likely to be as strange as Hope looked. Lightning was secretly suspicious that the village shaman might have been holding some bizarre cleansing ritual, and drug use in any form, 'herbal' or not, wasn't about to be an option in her military career. She was already wary after the lazy elder's pipe-smoking display.

"Don't worry, you'll see soon enough," Hope remarked. As it turned out, 'soon enough' was the rough equivalent of 'several sharp turns and a short climb through a dimly-lit tunnel into the mountain' later. The end of the path was a dark, steaming pool inside a high-ceilinged cavern, complete with a few scantily-clad, or more likely _un_clad, villagers reclining in the water. Lightning mentally slapped herself for thinking that the day couldn't get any more… awkward.

Hope, for his part, didn't seem to have a problem with the situation. "Isn't it great? They found this natural spring by following bats into a tiny passage generations ago, and now it's the village grotto! Ten-person limit though, so if someone leaves, they're supposed to send in the next person."

"So let me get this straight: you're going to _leave_ me here to strip down in front of a bunch of strangers who will _take_ my clothes and send me out in one of _these_," she remarked, pinching one of his tunic's sleeves between a thumb and forefinger to lift and inspect the fabric. "In what universe did you expect me to comply?" Lightning gave him an intensely incredulous look as she hoped against all hope that he would admit it was all a cruel prank.

"I don't _have_ to leave, I guess," Hope said quietly as he ducked his head, nervously raking a hand through the somewhat tamed locks, "but it's kind of rude to just stick around. And they didn't take my clothes, Light – I gave them to Elise to get the blood-stains out. She'll give them back when they're dry. I bet she'd wash your uniform too, if you asked nicely."

_Fat __chance. _I'm _the __only __one __touching __this __uniform._

Lightning wasn't sure how to respond, considering the logic; it made perfect sense to take a bath and clean one's clothes after two days of forging through the wilderness and fighting battles, but her emotions were making a robust effort to silence the voice of reason. She didn't _want_ to expose herself in a cave full of strangers, and she didn't _want_ some random village girl washing her clothes.

_Or Hope's._

That thought dredged up a completely foreign emotion, one that remained as the only explanation for her sudden and strong dislike of the poor girl she had never even met. Squashing the feeling through force of will, Lightning decided on a course of action for the more pressing challenge.

_It's like boot camp all over again – might as well face this head-on. I'll probably never see these people after this anyway._

"Just go get your clothes," Lightning ordered curtly, "and if you run into Snow, don't expect my level of merciful treatment for the weird outfit." She made a beeline for the darkest region of the cave, as far from the crystal luminescence as possible, and began to remove her boots. Glancing up in the process of unstrapping the pouch from her leg, she saw that Hope had apparently frozen in place across the room, an oddly pained expression on his face. Suddenly, he crossed the room to join her in the semi-darkness.

"Forget something?" Lightning was unable to read his intentions with his features so obscured, and she felt a momentary flutter of panic.

"Yes, I meant to ask if you were having a bad morning – I mean, Snow didn't get on your case about… you know… did he?" Hope stammered.

Lightning almost wished she had already hit the hot spring, if only to avoid the reemergence of burning embarrassment; however, much like the bath issue, she opted to face it directly.

"You could say it was bad in some ways, and yes, of course he did. Not that I put much stock in that oaf's good opinion."

Hope let out a low, throaty laugh. "Should've known better that to leave you there, but I thought if I moved you… oh well. Next time I'll wake you up, no matter how peaceful you look. I promise."

Lightning started to blurt out a string of questions that had spontaneously popped into her head, but the first of them stuck in her throat when Hope lightly grasped her shoulders and planted a quick kiss on her forehead, then turned and jogged out of the cavern before she had a chance to fully react.

_Did he really…why? Next time?_

After numbly removing the rest of her uniform and meandering over to the pool, Lightning hardly noticed the presence of a group of naked strangers in the hot spring as she soaked. The next half hour was basically a blur, punctuated only by a warm tingling sensation on her forehead in the midst of general discombobulation.

When Lightning had finally wandered out of the steamy cave and returned to the main village, her head was still mildly fogged over, and she took a completely different path toward the end of town where she knew the guest quarters to be. Passing by another row of unfamiliar huts, some built in tiers among the trees, she began to notice the presence of red ribbons waving at the entrances to a few of the homes. Eventually the path circled around to the large, conspicuous spiral structure that was home to the village apothecary, apparently also serving as a clinic of sorts. A little surprisingly, Snow was still there; his overcoat hung on a peg near the entrance, and Lightning was interested to know exactly what had kept him there all morning.

She rang the bell hanging next to the entrance, and moments later the apothecary opened the door and stood inspecting her, squinting through his glasses.

"You need medicine, or are you just looking for your friends?" he asked plainly, obviously in the middle of something and not wishing to waste time.

"Friends," Lightning replied, curious to know who else had joined Snow. "Can I come in?"

"Alright, but don't touch anything." With that, he turned back into the hut, disappearing among shelves filled with various shapes and sizes of labeled bottles and bags. Standing just inside the door, Lightning could hear Snow's always-'outside' voice drifting down from the stairs, and she followed the sound up a couple of flights before tracking down the source. Upon reaching the entrance to the room, she caught the end of a conversation.

"It's only the greatest news since finding the ship! And this is for sure, no doubt about it – I've gotta radio Serah, find out what she wants me to do and–" He stopped abruptly at the sudden appearance of the soldier. "Oh, hey Sis."

Lightning merely growled a little at the use of the name, being far more interested to know this amazing news, but she momentarily lost focus upon entering the room and seeing who was on the other end of the conversation.

Hope smiled and gave her a nervous wave, trying – and failing – to not make eye contact, and Sazh stood leaning against the far wall. Lightning got the strangest sense that she had stumbled upon something she wasn't meant to hear just yet, and she searched for a satisfactory way to explain herself.

"Guess it's your turn now, Snow," she said, and Hope chuckled at the awkward attempt at joining the conversation.

"My turn for what?" Snow didn't seem to know about the grotto system, and Lightning did not want to waste the time explaining.

"Nevermind. What's this great news you were broadcasting just now?" she asked almost instantly.

"Oh that!" he began excitedly, thankfully eager to pass it on. "You won't believe what this village has cooked up over the last couple of centuries – they've got a remedy for the Focus virus, something that could save countless lives at the base and the new settlement. Guess it's been around for a while, and the medicine man here's got a decent stock of the stuff, plus he's willing to give us the recipe so we can make it in-house. Serah's gonna flip when she hears this!"

"And you're absolutely sure it works? No weird side-effects? There has to be a catch," Lightning said skeptically, nonetheless hoping to be wrong.

"It works for sure – they've been using it in this village for nearly two hundred years. I guess before that, a lot of people were dying from the virus, and this medicine man's great-great-great-times-ten grandfather figured out that the fungus spawning the virus-carrier spores could be made into a potion, heated, and inhaled. I'm sure Serah will know exactly how it works, but that's the gist." He paused, looking a bit less enthused about what was coming next.

"You are right, though; there is a catch. Not some side-effect – even if they use mushrooms, they're not _that _kind – but there is a shortcoming of the remedy. If you don't use it on the first outbreak, it can't kill off the virus completely, since it settles in deeper and adapts beyond the first stage. Pretty much means that it's only partially effective against relapses, so I'm sorry to say you two won't get the full benefit from treatment," he explained, and Lightning's eyes widened at the plural form, needing to confirm the other person to whom Snow referred. Somewhere deep down, she already knew. Even if that wasn't the case, Hope's shifting stance and gaze on the floor was enough to confirm the suspicion.

Snow seemed to realise his slip-up, and he tried to breeze over it by continuing to chatter. "So what were you talking about earlier, Light? Something about it being my turn?"

"Doesn't matter," she said stiffly, then glared across the room and crossed her arms. "When were you planning on telling me about this, Hope? When you relapsed?" Her voice had gotten dangerously quiet.

"Now wait a second, Light. Don't blow this out of proportion," Sazh said in his dad-peacemaker tone. "Just give him a chance to explain." Hope already had the deer-caught-in-the-headlights look, opening and then closing his mouth as he grasped at whatever he'd wanted to say. Sazh crossed the room to walk out the door, shooting Lightning a final warning look as he passed, and then said, "Let's go, Snow." Snow simply followed after him, anxiously rubbing at the back of his bandanna.

A painful mixture of emotions had been stirred up at this revelation, and Lightning wasn't sure what she really wanted to say to Hope. She stood mute for a couple of minutes, looking over at his downcast expression. Thinking back on her own bout with the virus, so many of his words and actions made more sense now. True, she was angry and hurt that he had kept his own condition a secret from her, but the fear of _why_ he had done so was beginning to overshadow every other feeling.

"I owe you an explanation, I know," Hope said in a toneless voice, looking up from his boots, but still not meeting her eyes.

"This is obviously serious, and I can't think of a good reason for you not to tell me," Lightning replied, emotions firmly in check, "but maybe you'll prove me wrong this time."

He sighed, considering something before speaking again. "If I tell you everything that happened, and don't leave anything out, will you promise not to treat me any differently? I'm not some fragile kid that needs to be kept in a set location and looked after all the time, and I don't want you joining the ranks of people who look at me like I might break into pieces if they bump into me – or worse, that I might make them sick, even though we all know that's not how it works." He finally looked up, green eyes pleading for understanding and agreement. "Please promise me that."

"I-I promise." Lightning would have thought it impossible for Hope to look any more unguarded than usual, what with his heart always being on his sleeve, but he somehow pulled it off in that moment. She would have promised to do just about any ridiculous thing he asked with that expression in place.

_Guess everyone has a weakness._

* * *

Hope was not particularly looking forward to facing the music; he would have liked to give Snow a sound beating, were it both possible and actually beneficial. He could already feel his stomach twisting up at the thought of Lightning pitying him. And pity was not on the growing list of things he wanted.

_Just when she was treating me like an equal, too – this is a disaster._

But he had promised to tell her, and the expectant look on her face was beginning to show a hint of impatience.

"You might want to sit down," he began, sounding defeated even to himself.

"I'll stand." Typical Lightning.

Hope cleared his throat, fidgeting with a loose thread on the tunic's sleeve as he organized the mass of thoughts swirling around with hurricane force in his mind.

_Begin at the beginning, I guess._

"So umm, first you should know that I woke up about three months after Serah and Dajh. I was actually in a shelter with them – well, we all were – at the time. You already know about the PSICOM mess I got into, but… there were a few details left out of the story." Hesitating, he looked up at her, searching for a sign that she was following, and receiving a quick nod.

"When I got sick a few weeks later – PSICOM had just started giving me trouble then, hassling me if I ran errands in town but nothing serious – Serah was in the middle of trying to find work, and at the time, nothing seemed suitable. Because the virus hit so suddenly, it really freaked her out, so she scoured the settlement for medical help, only to find out that _they_ needed help too; the result was that my recovery from the first stage was slow, working off experimental treatments that were being used on other evacuees coming down with the same symptoms."

Lightning looked anxious; she seemed to be predicting outcomes, already anticipating the drop of the other shoe. "Back then, was the treatment very similar to what Serah gave me?" she asked.

"It was antiviral, so I guess it was similar – a lot weaker, but substantial enough to force the virus into regression. Serah's one of the lucky few with a strange immunity to infection, and the development of the treatment you had was the direct result of researching her blood properties," he said thoughtfully, adding with caution, "along with plenty of trial and error."

"Were you an 'error'?" Lightning asked immediately, and Hope realised anew the futility of keeping her out of the loop. There was no telling how long she may have carried doubts about the completeness of the information given to her.

"You could say that," he replied darkly, "not that it was anyone's fault. The team had been keeping charts on me for months, even years by then, and they had a rough understanding of the virus' trend before relapse. They told me it was hard to know just how much and exactly where the infected cells were, so when they wanted to try out a new treatment to proactively snuff out the virus, I was all for it. Not my best decision, but seventeen-year-old boys are just a dangerous combination of risky and optimistic, I guess. I should have listened to Serah." Hope ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the locks into disarray.

Lightning had resigned herself to leaning against the wall, still tense even in a casual position, as she waited for him to continue.

He took a deep breath. "Long story short, the virus flared up in a reaction to the test treatment hours later when I was in the hangar, and Sazh found me unconscious under the ship the next morning with a raging fever. That really does something to your sense of security, so I try to cut him some slack for always keeping tabs," he said with a short, empty laugh. "I don't know how they did it, but Serah and the medical staff saved my life. Seems to be a thing with you Farrons, keeping me alive against all odds."

"It's not just us," Lightning said softly, looking toward the ragged curtain hanging over a small window, barely blocking any sunlight. The afternoon heat was trying to settle in early. "Might sound cliché, but your mother knew what she was doing when she gave you that name."

Hope smiled in spite of the prevailing mood, feeling it lift a bit as he saw that Lightning was trying to understand, and despite her protective nature, did not intend to make a scene of yelling at him or insisting that he hide away under constant supervision – even after knowing everything.

_Almost everything. If she asks, I'll tell her._

Closing the distance between them, Hope took hold of her shoulders, and she jumped at the contact, meeting his gaze with a blatantly questioning look.

"Thanks for hearing me out, Light," he said, relief written all over his face, and he slid his arms around her in a tight hug. "I never should have kept so much from you. Forgive me?"

Lightning pulled back a bit, looking up with the question still in her eyes. "Only if you tell me what's bothering you now."

_Crap. Open book, like always._

Hope let out a breath he'd been holding, and decided to bite the bullet. "I'm not cured, okay? Just like with you, there's always a possibility of a more serious relapse. That's really all there is to know." He attempted to give an encouraging smile, but it was halfhearted. "Besides, after what we found out today, that won't be as big of an issue."

"It still scares you, doesn't it?" she stated more than asked, and he wished to goodness he could have left that last part off and skipped the oncoming sympathy.

Letting go completely, he crossed his arms and adopted a more Lightning-like posture, unable to help the defensiveness that decided to surface. "Who _isn__'__t _scared? Most of Cocoon got wiped out thirteen short days after the fluke reawakening of a Pulse fal'Cie, then the survivors landed on a hostile planet with a seemingly incurable virus. And we all thought we were going to become Cie'th, or at best turn into crystal and never wake up again. Compared to that fear, this is nothing. This is fixable, and there's no way I'm going to let it turn me into some miserable, useless 'patient'. You of all people know why – you _taught _me to fight. That's exactly what I'm going to do."

Something he said must have gotten through, because Lightning blinked her widening eyes, then relaxed against the wall and smiled. She unexpectedly gave a small chuckle, shaking her head at the random soapbox moment for Hope. He couldn't blame her – in that stupid tunic, it really didn't have the full effect of a stirring speech.

"C'mon, it wasn't supposed to be funny," he said, rubbing an arm in embarrassment. "And you didn't forgive me yet."

Lightning stood up straight, just inches away, and she reached out and adjusted the tunic. "Forgiven." He was already blushing, and she was not making things any easier by leaning in and reaching up to ruffle his hair. "Just don't let it happen again – and go get your clothes before I find them myself."

_Of course, no conversation would be complete without an order._

"S-sure, I'll do that," Hope said unsteadily, backing away slightly as he took hold of her hand on its way down from his hair, not quite willing to leave. Right then, the apothecary appeared in the doorway and, upon surveying the scene, gave them a hard look.

"If you two are done chatting, I suggest you leave me to my work," the wisp of a man said, turning and heading back down the stairs. Hope felt a strange sense of triumph when he looked back at Lightning and saw her embarrassment mirroring his own. Pink was such a nice color on her, but red was even better.

He chuckled, smothering his mouth and walking out the door before the increasingly agitated soldier could take it out on him, calling back to her as he left, "I'll see you later, Light – in the _proper_ uniform."

Feeling energized by the mission, his conscience lighter from finally letting Lightning in on everything that had been stuffed into the closet of his mind, Hope took off in search of Elise. Not three huts down the path, he bumped right into her in his distracted state, steadying her before she could fall as he gave a swift apology.

"I'm so sorry! Didn't see you there."

The tiny woman just laughed, poking a finger at his chest, which was pretty much at eye-level for her, as she scolded, "I didn't know where to find you, and you weren't in the guest huts. How'd you expect to get those bloody clothes back?"

"But they're not bloody now, right?" He was awfully glad she seemed to have a good sense of humor, though it probably helped that her manner of speaking reminded him strongly of Fang, as did many of the villagers'. And Elise was right – it _had_ been rude of him to disappear, even if she'd come back earlier than he expected.

"Do I look like an amateur? Of course they're clean _now_. And you're lucky to 'ave such good friends. The really big man – what's his name, Snow? – told me to find you at the apothecary. You have allergies?"

"No, no. Talking with a friend." He was getting tired of explanations.

"So _she__'__s_ sick, then?" Elise looked around him, and Hope turned to see Lightning just outside the entrance several meters behind them, her expression somewhere between confusion and lingering aggravation. "Looks perfectly 'ealthy to me, maybe a bit flushed." Hope waved to Lightning, wondering what had ruffled her this time, and in a sudden, brief moment of clarity, he knew both the problem _and _how to fix it.

He turned back to the short woman and smiled mischievously. "No, she's not sick either, but right now she's probably not in the best mood. Wanna meet her?"

"Not seein' much of a choice, what with the look on your face," she said teasingly, following Hope as he walked over to the pink-haired soldier, who by now was completely guarded and expressionless.

"No clothes?" Lightning said dryly.

Hope just smiled and ushered forward the tiny, defenseless woman behind him. "Light, this is Elise – I've heard she's the best housekeeper in the village, and she's got a mean dry-cleaning service."

One look at the woman, and the soldier dropped her guard, her expression softening instantaneously. Hope watched Lightning take in her features: the eyes crinkled with smile lines, the gray-streaked hair – the makeshift cane.

Lightning tried to stop staring at the older woman, but ended up looking her in the eyes and offering a hand. "I'm Lightning."

"He learned the impatience from you, I take it." Elise looked at Lightning's hand, puzzled, and made a foreign gesture of greeting with her own hands while slightly bowing her head, an action Hope vaguely recognized as something Vanille used to do. "Name's Elise, and this boy 'ere hasn't given me the chance to tell him that I left the clothes at the hut – they're not quite dry, but I'm no miracle worker."

Hope's smile widened and grew at the sheer adorableness of the interaction until his face hurt, and eventually they left the spot in the street and made the trek back to the guest quarters. He had never been happier to see those beaten up coveralls, and Lightning seemed just as pleased.

Ecstatic to get out of the itchy tunic, he was just about to leave and change back into his slightly-damp clothes when Snow barged into the hut. "You're still in one piece! That's a really good sign," he said to Hope, grabbing him into a head-lock and giving him a noogie. Lightning shot him a token glare – there was no real force behind it. "Now, go change before you shame the Estheim family by wearing a dress for longer than five hours," Snow added, shoving him toward the door and throwing the coveralls and t-shirt in his face.

Hope gathered the clothes, laughing at his friends' absolute hatred for the tunic; he'd never realised how much those coveralls had become a part of his identity. "Who decided it was a five hour limit?" he responded.

"I did – there are five things that make you a man, and you lose one per hour. By now, you're less of a man than Lightning, so it might take a few days to recover," Snow continued to tease, and Lightning's glare was suddenly backed by real warning. That wasn't about to stop the man, and he tacked on, "Oh and by the way, you know I'm telling your dad about this."

"You _do_ that – see if I care," Hope called out as he left the hut, grateful for Snow's positive attitude on the mission, even when it came out indirectly through fake insults and empty threats; that was just his way of showing support without being a sap or handing out useless sympathy. Jogging to the hut across the path, Hope decided that things would work themselves out, and the sun beating down on the village was somehow brighter than before.

_We _will _find __you, __Dad._


	12. I Have Been Good

A/N: So, technically I failed to get this up before midnight on Saturday, but it couldn't be helped. For once, this chapter was mostly written _ahead_ of time, but my beta found a lot of major issues with the first half at the last minute, and it took from ten p.m. till after twelve to get things squared away :P Oh well, it's all for the best, and it's longer than usual. Please enjoy this chapter – I loved writing it, and I can't wait to read the reviews! That said, please do REVIEW :D On a lesser note, I have one lonely vocab word for you:

*Bpm: beats per minute, the measurement for one's heart rate; of relevance, the critical bpm for an average person is between 200 and 230.

(revised 30SEP11)

I Have Been Good (understood)

Lightning had a debilitating case of pre-mission jitters. After a long and drawn-out meeting with the whole team, Sergeant Lucil casually announced that they would be departing with a group of hunters bright and early the next day, the first real change following a couple of days of recuperation and supply restocking – mostly in the form of viral remedies. To make matters worse, Serah was being transported to the crash site (and temporary communications post) to rendezvous with the team for a training session with the village apothecary, who would be joining them on the journey back.

The potent combination of so many vital factors – not the least of which concerned the presence of her sister in the Pulsian wilderness – set off an obsessive preparatory reaction in the soldier and filled her head with everything battle-related. Even if it was a common reaction, comforting in some ways, Lightning knew that it would end up giving her temporary insomnia. That was disastrous for combat-readiness, and there was only one thing she could think of that distracted her enough to crowd out the stress building up in her mind, at least by replacing it with a different form of anxiety.

_Hope._

Which was precisely the reason she had wandered out of the little barbecue powwow being thrown by the villagers in the dusky hours of the evening before departure. Consuming dubious-looking rice wine (a warranted description – it tasted as strange as it looked) and roasting several palawan fowl on a massive spit in the village center might have been the height of splendor for Snow, and admittedly most of the other guys on the team, but Lightning felt awkward trying to socialize with the gaggle of inquisitive Pulse natives while constantly thinking about an unrelated agenda – for instance, the fastest way to cross the narrow ravine while alerting the least number of lobos.

Gradually larger amounts of the alcohol didn't seem to be helping, and she refused to drink to the point that _would_ be helpful; it would only lead to a terrible hangover. She was further discouraged to stay when Hope didn't seem too keen on sticking around, and after his friendly conversation with Elise, whom Lightning considered to be the only villager around worth talking to, he had managed to slip away unnoticed. By everyone but herself, anyway. At the time, a mildly-buzzed Snow was talking her ear off about how much he missed every little thing about Serah, and she wasted several minutes before snagging the opportunity to pass the forlorn man off to Sazh and escape.

_It shouldn't be taking this long to track Hope down._

Lightning cursed her tipsiness as she checked in and around all of the guest huts for the third time, this time wondering if he had grabbed a bedroll and was planning to camp out under the stars somewhere – that _seemed_ like him, and she'd eliminated most other ideas. True to form, there was a missing bedroll, two in fact, and she immediately left the hut and scanned the path for some clue that might give away the general direction in which he'd headed.

Sure enough, as she walked farther down the path, she could make out the bluish glow of a solar lamp blinking among the branches in the distance; as Lightning was fairly certain that none of the villagers had learned military code signaling, the glaring fact that a lamp signal was calling for 'reinforcements' in the middle of a tree pretty much gave away Hope's position. She took off down the street at a light jog, smiling to herself at his strange brand of ingenuity.

It turned out that the base of the tree containing the signal was someone's house, though it was completely dark and uninhabited. She tried the door and found it unbolted, and upon entering, immediately noticed the dim light seeping down a ladder passage in the roof against the tree trunk at the hut's center. Lightning wobbled slightly as she climbed the creaky ladder through three more floors before coming out onto the highest level – a flat, porch-like roof, one that had been set up in such a way that the sky was in plain sight through a wide gap among the branches. Hope was directly underneath the open space, sitting against the tree with the lamp cast aside.

"Was I too conspicuous?" he asked, smiling up at her once she came around from the trap door side of the deck.

"Just enough to bail me out of the party," Lightning said demurely, beginning to wonder whether it had, in fact, been such a good idea to replace one brand of jitters with another. She tried to make light of the butterflies infesting her stomach; it had become more commonplace than she wanted to admit. Too common to be passed off as nausea.

"You do know that breaking and entering is a crime, even in primitive villages, right?" Lightning had caved to the need to fill the silence; it wasn't her forte, but silence wasn't useful when her mind was only slightly less numb than her lips.

Hope chuckled at the accusation, and she cursed the growth of the butterfly colony as it transferred upward to affect her heart rate. "I'm not _that_ brazen, Light – this is Elise's place, and I got _permission_ to use the roof, thank you very much."

_Earned __the __trust __of __a __random __stranger. __How __does __he _do _that?_

So she asked, hoping the innocent conversation would settle her nerves. "We've been here less than three days, and she let you use her house?"

He sat up straighter, shaking a few leaves out of his hair and looking up with that crooked smile again before answering. _So __much __for __calming __down._

"You underestimate my powers of persuasion," he said smoothly, but just when Lightning felt her pulse race and feared that panic might actually take hold of her, he laughed it off, and she felt a little twinge of irritation at her own jumpiness.

_Under __control. __This _is _under __control._

"Calm down, Light, I was joking," he spluttered, still laughing, and then finished the explanation. "It was Elise's idea – she suggested that tonight would be great for stargazing, and when I asked about a good place for that, she offered the roof. It's that simple. No persuasion necessary." Hope held up his hands, feigning to plead innocence, and she finally let her guard down a bit and cracked a smile, sitting in front of him on the deck. Standing straight in that same position had started to require too much concentration as it was.

As much as Lightning hated to ask the next question, she knew it was appropriate. "And she was okay with you having company?" She didn't like feeling so bashful; it had never suited her like it had Serah, even in grade school. Eventually someone would poke fun at her uncharacteristic girliness, and she had to punch the offender's lights out. If Snow had come around, he would have been on the receiving end of her frustration, but there was no danger of that – at least not when alone in the dark in a tree in a village in the wilderness – and she couldn't default to being defensive around Hope when there was no reason to be.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Hope's reply. "I get the feeling Elise won't mind," he said shyly, then added, "Not that I asked, but she may or may not have seen right through my intentions. It's easy enough – _you_ do it all the time."

Lightning blinked – she was doing it right then, in fact. It was impossible to ignore the ever-present spark in his bright, expressive eyes, which basically told her everything she needed to know, every time he looked at her. It was both invigorating and terrifying.

"True," she agreed, looking down at the wooden planks of the deck, uncertain whether she was ready to face the emotions that kept trying to break free, but feeling guilty that she had become a habitual taker – always knowing and secretly enjoying the way Hope favored her, but never really reciprocating. It ate at her sense of justice, and she decided then and there to take a step, even a small one.

"Hope," she started uneasily, fighting against the tightness in her throat, "what are you thinking, right now? Yes, I can read your face most of the time, but whenever we end up having a chance to talk about whatever it was, it's always some problem that needs solving or a world-altering crisis. The truth is, I'd like to know more about _you_, for once."

It was obvious that he didn't expect such an open response, and he stared in wide-eyed surprise before a blush spread over his face. "W-well, that can be arranged," he stammered before clearing his throat and pulling off a stronger ending to the reply. "On one condition."

"Name it," she said easily, surprised at her own confidence that surfaced in the midst of inner turmoil. Maybe it was just the wine.

"I know even less about you," he said, a tinge of regret in the words at first, but it faded. "So I suggest an exchange of personal questions – one for one. And if you can guess my favorite color, I'll answer your question first."

"But I _asked_ first, so that means you should—" Hope stopped her mouth with a tentative hand, grinning and shaking his head 'no', and she wondered exactly when he had gotten close enough to do that. The movement should not have escaped her notice.

Lightning thought her heart was going to self-destruct; it felt like a weirdly exhilarating form of the rush after their life-and-death encounters with the fal'Cie. She nodded mutely, and when Hope dropped his hand away, she automatically took it in both of her own, struggling to not be unnerved by his little gasp of surprise. It dawned on her that the gut-wrenching feeling she had right then was something he'd been dealing with for a while – maybe every time she was nearby. Of more pressing importance, Lightning also realised that she hadn't met his challenge, and it would be best to stay on topic, rather than risk losing all semblance of control.

"Orange," she said, recalling his boyhood outfit. Unthinkingly, Lightning traced over the burn mark on his forearm with one hand, feeling the damaged skin as she tried to recuperate from her own rash behavior. Something about injury tended to be a grounding force.

"What?" Hope asked, utterly confused as he looked up from their hands, coming out of a short-lived reverie.

Lightning kept moving ahead, intent on surviving the emotional onslaught. "You wanted me to guess your favorite color – I guessed orange."

At that, he seemed to fully return to reality, looking somewhat disappointed. "Right, yes – forgot I said that," he muttered, gently taking back his arm. "But no, it's not orange." Lying back on the deck, he rested his head on one of the bedrolls and looked up at the stars.

"Are you going to tell me what it _is_?" It had been a decent guess, and Lightning felt entitled to know just how wrong she was.

"Now that wouldn't be fair," he said playfully, turning to look at her again. "You guessed wrong, so I'm asking first."

Lightning was convinced that some things about Hope would never change, not the least of which was his sense of right, wrong, and retribution. Though she had to admit that it was tempered with experience – he wasn't likely to lash out in revenge like he'd tried to with Snow years before. She had been so happy to see him make the right decision then, and that feeling of pride seemed to build upon itself every time she watched him do the right thing, over and over, with few exceptions that could usually be put down to good intentions gone awry. She had come to depend on that, and she distantly wondered if everything else about Hope held the same level of fulfillment as that particular trait.

"Light," he said, snapping her out of the speculation, "tell me this: why did you come up here?" Hope had finally asked the first question. Of all the questions Lightning would have liked to answer, that was _not _one; it seemed simple at face-value, but he wasn't anywhere near gullible enough to accept the surface-level reply. That didn't stop her from trying.

"You signaled me, remember?" Lightning answered innocently, or at least as close as she could come to that – in the end, it turned out rather flat.

Hope sighed, sitting up again and making direct, unyielding eye contact. He clearly wasn't going to accept that answer.

"I signaled for reinforcements – how exactly did 'reinforcements' translate into 'Hope's in that tree, and I need to go over there'?" That grin of his was positively wicked, and for the second time since awakening, she felt an instinctive desire to slap it off his face. Or otherwise get him back. And she had an idea.

_I must be losing my mind._

Lightning took hold of the front of Hope's coveralls, firmly pulling him forward and brushing against his cheek to nearly touch his ear before issuing a hushed rebuttal. "You _know_ how. Don't call for reinforcements if you don't need them." She released him and backed away, letting the unadulterated shock on his face wear off while trying to simmer down enough herself to tell him the _real_ reason.

It would have been pretty humorous to watch Hope flounder for a response in that state, had she not been in the same condition herself – even if, technically, her tipsiness was both better _and_ worse for dealing with an awkward situation. By the soft glow of the solar lamp, Lightning could see that his face had now reddened considerably, and she felt a pang of guilt for stirring up trouble. Her method of teasing was a little too effective for her own liking; it had to be made right.

"Look, Hope," she said evenly, as he slowly recovered from the daze. "The reason I came is that I need to take my mind off a lot of things, and you're the only person who can do that." The words spilled out honestly, and Lightning soldiered on when he appeared to take interest in the explanation. "All I can think about is the mission, or Serah, or the remedy transport, and it's going to be a long, sleepless night if I don't change that. This way we can talk about other things, or look at the stars, whatever you want – just not worry… about…"

And that was where her voice stopped working. Hope had somehow gotten closer again, and after he carefully pulled a stray leaf out of her hair, she found herself face to face with the pleading look that she simply could not refuse.

"I get it, Light. Relax." _At __two __hundred __bpm __I __might __flatline __before __then._ "Would it be okay to ask you another question, if I let you ask two after?" he softly requested, and Lightning found that the thrumming of her pulse somehow pushed beyond the panic threshold and into foreign territory – a place where the will to fight suddenly and inexplicably died.

"Yes, anything," she answered involuntarily; she had no idea what to expect, but really couldn't care less at that point.

_Perfect. I wanted to stop thinking._

He exhaled, tracing a hand over the brass knuckles on the back of her glove. "This is going to seem like it's coming out of nowhere, but are you ever jealous of Serah?"

Again, Lightning could not have anticipated that question. She searched through her mind, which was threatening to turn to mush, and came up with what she felt confident was the truth.

"Sometimes, yes," she said quietly, and his eyes were again asking for elaboration, which Lightning gave. "She got to have a real childhood, and she's naturally so pleasant – so _non_abrasive. But that's part of why I love her; besides, I don't envy her being with Snow. Well, maybe the fact that she's adored by someone is enviable, but not the fact that it's _him_." Lightning smirked at the thought, but she was curious about something else. "If I ask why you asked, is that going to count against me?"

Hope casually reached out to lift her chin to his gaze. "I think I can let one slide."

_What was I asking again? Crap._

She blinked, refocusing with effort. "Okay – why _did_ you want to know?"

"It seemed like a good question to gauge how much you were willing to trust me with," Hope answered simply, but then he wore an odd expression, something between trepidation and eagerness that she could not place. "On that note, I know something that might help with the tension – I could give you a shoulder rub, if you want. Just a suggestion."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a little alarm went off that alerted Lightning to a situation that normally would make her uncomfortable. But the logic of his suggestion seemed stronger than the silly, barely noticeable warning, and she calmly responded, "Go ahead."

Despite that, when he moved around to sit cross-legged at her back and gingerly placed his hands on her shoulders, her former nervousness threatened to surge.

"This okay?" he asked, lightly massaging her neck and shoulders. "You just… seem a little lost tonight." That may have been true, but it mattered less and less. There had to be years' worth of knots there, and Lightning found that she didn't feel like protesting. She answered with a short nod as the tension began to melt off, giving way to drowsiness.

Hope took advantage of the silence to get in another word. "You know, I don't think you're naturally abrasive; you just intimidate people so they won't get close and violate your trust or let you down. It makes sense." He paused, continuing to work out residual tightness in the muscles, and she thought about that statement, considering the truth of it before he went on to ask, "So, why do you let me in?"

"Hey, it's my turn now," Lightning retorted, too far gone to put real force behind the words, but particularly not ready to answer that question. "For starters, what _is_ your favorite color?" The question had still been nagging at the back of her mind.

"You weren't too far off," he began, tackling a particularly stubborn knot between the shoulder blades, "but it's yellow. I think it's such an optimistic color, and my mom had this dress with tiny yellow flowers all over it that she wore on special occasions." Hope silently basked in the nostalgia briefly before tacking on, "I know you didn't ask why, but I wanted to spare you wasting the second question."

Lightning could feel her eyelids beginning to droop, the combination of the alcohol and steady release of muscle tension, and she wasn't sure if that next question would be forthcoming. Apparently satisfied with his work, Hope got up to his knees and turned aside, guiding her backward by the shoulders to lean against the tree trunk, and then briefly moving away to untie and smooth out one of the bedrolls.

"You should come see the stars before you pass out – we won't be here much longer," he said a little sadly, and she stood unsteadily and walked over to the padded surface, lying down flat and staring up through the branches at an impossibly crowded, glittering sky.

Hope laid out the other bedroll and did the same, but Lightning sensed his gaze turn toward her before long, and she searched for the question she'd been meaning to ask. The one that stuck out in her mind wasn't perfect, but it was something she wanted to know more than most of the other considerations.

"Hope, do you wish that you'd never been a l'Cie, that none of it ever happened and life had just continued like it was designed to?" She occasionally wondered that herself, and perhaps his response would inform her own questioning.

He lay there quietly for a minute or two, and Lightning began to suspect that he might have fallen asleep, but when she looked over, he was staring right back. She found herself unwilling to turn away, and several seconds later realised she'd been holding her breath. Hope gave a gentle smile when she suddenly sucked in air, and he reached over to brush the bangs out of her face.

_Nothing __should __make __you_ _forget __to _breathe_. __Ugh, __I __hate __rice __wine._

"I don't think it matters," he answered, "and it wouldn't be right to say that I'd wish for my mother's death and my father's disappearance – not to mention the destruction of our whole world – just for the chance to meet all of you. But that's how it happened, and there's no changing it." He extended his arm to sweep a hand over the top of her hair and pull her head closer, and Lightning reactively nestled into the offered shoulder; she felt herself slipping further, ready to drift away again.

"I hate the suffering we all went through, but I love the rest," Hope finished, kissing the top of her hair when she draped an arm over him. The insistent alarm in the back of her head went off again, but she mentally snoozed the thing and let it be.

Lightning was no longer thinking about anything remotely connected to the mission, the virus, the remedy – nothing else besides wanting to validate his last comment before it was too late. She muttered a quiet "So do I," then breathed in the night air and the smell of recently-washed coveralls that had mingled with his own scent as she fell asleep to the rise and fall of his chest.

_Hope, you had better wake me up this time._

* * *

He was _not_ going to make the same mistake twice. Still, that did nothing to take the edge off his utter misery at disturbing the beautiful, sleeping woman half-sprawled across him at three in the morning. It was wrong. _Beyond_ wrong.

_But I promised. Her reaction to the gunblade repairs was a tiny slap on the wrist in comparison to what will happen if I don't._

Hope checked the time again – he couldn't afford to wait any longer. In four hours, everyone would be up and packed, ready to leave. Or, in light of the situation, should he fail to act, ready to track down their missing team members and subsequently bring about the second end of the world for him. He sighed, the logical side of his mind already having won.

"Light, wake up," he said softly, shaking her shoulder with the hand that wasn't pinned down. In response, she grumbled and rolled over, but woke with a little cry at landing uncomfortably on top of the gunblade, still strapped on when she had laid down. The groggy soldier sat up, rubbing between her eyebrows before blinking away the sleep to take in the situation. She jumped a bit when Hope placed a hand on her shoulder.

Lightning became very alert, very fast. "What time is it?" she asked immediately, with the slightest hint of frustration in her voice, and then stood to begin packing up the bedroll.

"It's only five after three," Hope replied, feeling a tad disappointed at her unshakable focus on leaving. "Should be plenty of time to get back to the hut and sleep a while before Lucil wakes everyone."

"Perfect," she said, not missing a beat and already heading for the trap door with the bedroll. He got the sense that Lightning wasn't going to be ready to deal with what was happening between them for a while yet; he was still alone in that respect. But he couldn't just let her go without a word.

"Wait, Light," Hope called out before she got away, and she stopped for a moment.

"What is it?" Lightning asked, not harshly, but it still seemed cold. Closer to normal.

"Sweet dreams," he said, fighting the onslaught of discouragement and smiling as he added, "Forgot to say that before."

"Oh," she said quietly, the all-business façade melting away for a moment as she allowed a half-smile in return. "You too. Thanks for waking me up this time… and for everything else." With that, Lightning was gone, already down the ladder and out the door below when he finally came full circle from despair to hope again. Hope collapsed back on the bedroll and stared up at the still-starry sky as he released all the negative feelings that had crept in. He might as well have been floating.

_She'll come around._

* * *

Seven in the morning found everyone back to the usual – running around with rucksacks of supplies and more energy than was ever going to be productive. When Hope arrived on the scene, rested and ready to face the day, Sergeant Lucil immediately approached him with an accusatory expression.

"Where were you last night? You left the cook-out early and no one's seen you since!" _Well, __Light __has __either __cleverly __avoided __this __or __lied. __Probably __the __former._ "I hope there's a good explanation, and it better not've involved the grotto again." Surprisingly, the whole community bath concept had been more of a problem for Lucil than even Lightning, and Hope had rubbed it in her face a couple of times for good measure. None of them were ever in there at the same time, so he didn't see why she had such issues.

"Oh don't worry – nothing so terrible as proper hygiene," he teased, earning a laser-strength glare from the sergeant, and then he clarified on the double. "Seriously, no grotto! Elise let me stay on her roof patio to stargaze. Much better than some rowdy cook-out, don't you think?"

Her irritation deflated a bit, probably from knowing that Elise had been a great help to the entire filthy team since day one with laundry, and all was well. "Whatever you say, but next time, check in with someone. I know you're not completely used to the military routine, but as long as you're working with a bunch of soldiers who have your back and depend on your support, you can't have the privilege of just doing whatever you want without clearing it with a superior."

_Technically, __I__'__m __pretty __sure __I _was _cleared __with __a __superior. __Of __your __rank._

But he only smirked at the thought, and then gave her a smart "Yes, Sergeant," before wandering off to see how things had turned out for his favorite soldier.

When Hope spotted her, Lightning was cornered in a conversation with Snow, and he walked in on just the information he wanted to hear – her cover story.

"It's ridiculous how much you don't trust these villagers! Hope, you're with me, right?" Snow asked, pulling him into the discussion. And literally pulling him by the arm.

"With you on what, exactly?" Hope asked innocently.

Snow gestured toward Lightning, aggravation and disbelief all over his face. "Miss Super-soldier here camped out on guard duty in front of the hut last night, which is totally uncalled for! All these villagers have done since they found out we weren't the enemy is take care of us and help us out in every way possible, and she's still gotta spit in the face of their hospitality with her stupid trust issues." Lightning took on a more defiant stance and shifted her glare from Snow over to Hope, as if expecting Hope to settle the issue. But Snow turned to him as well, obviously looking for some support, before outright saying, "C'mon, you've gotta back me up on this one."

_Great. I hate being in the middle._

He had to admit, Lightning had covered her tracks pretty well; however, Snow _was_ right, at least in principle. "Look, I don't want to get involved in this," Hope said warily, but neither Snow nor Lightning appeared willing to let him back out; perhaps it would be possible to justify both of their positions.

"Alright, but you won't like my opinion," he began, taking a breath. "Snow, Lightning's a soldier, and I think you need to understand that some of her habits are really hard to break as the result of training; we _are_ in the wilder parts of Pulse, and even if we want to believe these villagers have entirely good intentions, it's sometimes better to err on the side of caution." When he finished, Snow gave him a somewhat hurt look, which was comical on a man of his size.

"So you're throwing me under the bus? That's just not brotherly," Snow sulked.

"I wasn't finished," Hope immediately replied. "Your point stands, too." He paused for a moment, swallowing the tiniest lump of fear when he thought of opposing Lightning, particularly to her face, before continuing. "Light, these villagers have gone above and beyond what we deserved from them, and they even gave us a partial cure for the virus. I know you don't trust people easily, but you _could_ honor their actions with a little reciprocation, especially since Lucil didn't seem to think they had any bad intentions, and I doubt she gave you the order to stand guard. You shouldn't get so wound up about things." He knew he was treading on thin ice with the implications behind those words, but he'd validated her cover story _and_ told the truth on two different levels. Her relaxation window was the size of a child's attention span. And it required more effort.

"See, I told you!" Snow exclaimed, but Lightning merely narrowed her eyes and nodded in acknowledgement.

"Fine," she said, and then walked off to grab her things for the trip.

Hope looked down at his boots. "She's mad at me now, huh."

Snow laughed heartily, punching him in the shoulder. "It'll pass. Gotta hand it to her though – that was a pretty solid excuse for disappearing last night. Can't say that Sis was ever a good liar, but she sucks less than she used to," he said lightly, and Hope felt his face beginning to heat up as his mouth dropped open in surprise. Sometimes he wished that Snow was actually as dumb as he let on.

"Don't sweat it, Hope," Snow said before the younger man was able to respond. "I won't be throwing _you_ under the bus, either – if only because you guys made a valiant effort to help each other out. I can honor that, so long as you tell me the real story sometime." With that, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and headed for the basket of breakfast implements set out by some friendly villagers.

"Snow, wait!" Hope blurted out, grabbing the back of his overcoat. "At least tell me how you figured it out."

Snow chuckled, turning around to put a hand on Hope's shoulder. "Look, I don't make it a habit of giving away my methods..." He paused dramatically, and then said, "But just so you know, if I'd had any doubts before, you just erased them. Thanks, bro!" Hope momentarily considered punching that stupid grin on Snow's face, but he'd learned the hand-breaking lesson from that _last_ year, and he simply sighed in frustration and let the man continue on his journey to the food as he waved a hand in departure.

_Maybe he'll forget… Nope, not a chance._

The trip back to the temporary communications post at the crash site was decidedly easier than the one to the village, all thanks to a skilled group of hunters and scouts that knew the region like the backs of their hands. It also helped that _their _method of crossing the ravine involved a bridge, which was well worth the extra time required to hike over to it; the only hiccup in the operation was getting Snuggles over, and in the end Snow released the wyvern's wings and walked him across on the leash like a kite. Only one unlucky soldier felt the ramifications of that plan – fortunately, the droppings just hit his helmet.

Hope was especially thankful that no attack formations had been necessary. Some part of him feared that Lightning might have refused to fight with him, especially since she had been so distant and quiet on the journey thus far, maintaining a steady separation of several paces. But it was self-centered and childish of him to think she should automatically choose to be his 'battle buddy' of sorts, or even that she would _have_ a choice, and he dismissed the thought.

_Maybe she just needs some space._

* * *

A few hours later, the team and escort arrived at their destination, and a sorely anxious Serah raced to meet them and pounced on Snow with a death-grip hug.

"What took so long? I've been waiting here all day, and the guys ran out of things to bet about an hour ago!" she said, backing off and rocking on her feet with anticipation.

"Sorry about that – we took a longer route, but it was a lot safer," Snow explained, and Serah seemed pleased. However, seconds later he jumped back to what she had said. "Hey wait a sec – you didn't scalp those poor suckers in poker, did you?" Watching this unfold, Hope chuckled to himself, which caught her attention and, he suspected, gave her a much-welcomed distraction.

"Oh, Hope!" Serah rushed over and squeezed the breath out of him, already starting into a conversational barrage. "How's the arm? Snow said you got burned by a flaming marshmallow – you wouldn't believe how common that is, but second degree burns are still serious. And why on Pulse aren't you wearing a bandage? Let me take a look." She did a quick inspection of the healing burn; it was merely a rough, seared over spot that didn't really hurt anymore. In his estimation, it had stopped hurting the moment Lightning touched his arm. That was when he stopped caring, anyway.

"It's nothing. Light made me let it cool off before I did anything, which must have helped the healing process in the long run – I forgot that _she_ taught _you _how to fuss over things," Hope replied, not realising the can of worms he had just opened. It wasn't even what he said – it had to have been the combination of what he said and what was projected on his face after _hearing_ himself. He hadn't gone more than one sentence without bringing up her sister, and that slip made him painfully aware of the escalation in closeness over the past few days. As always, the logbook of his thoughts was open to the public.

Serah's all-knowing gaze was merciless, and to make matters worse, she kept on the subject. "Well, good to know you were taken care of, though I'd imagine kissing it and making it better can't substitute for a good bandage. By the way, where's Sis now?" She blew over the hint like it was nothing, apparently satisfied at the way Hope had squirmed from her suggestion, struggling to prepare a reply.

"I-I don't know – at least, I didn't see where she went," he began awkwardly, then added more quietly, "and she did _not_ kiss the burn. I don't blame her; it was a sticky mess."

"Right, right," Serah said with a sly grin. "Better track her down before she thinks I'm a bad sister. Wanna come with me?"

"That's okay," Hope said, still embarrassed at his own transparency.

Serah's expression softened into one of understanding. "You know, it's best not to avoid whatever's bothering you. _I__'__m_ dragging _you_ along, and I don't mind being the scapegoat."

Hope shook his head. "No, Serah, it's not that I want to avoid Light. She's keeping her distance right now, and I'd rather leave it alone. You know how she gets."

Serah hummed in thought, and then asked quietly, "So, what'd you do _this_ time?"

"Ugh," Hope groaned, holding his forehead. "I wish Snow didn't have to tell you _everything_. For your information, I didn't do anything wrong." At that point, his frustration was threatening to bring on a headache. "How about this – let me know if you figure out what her problem is. Maybe then I can _fix _it." He turned and walked away from Serah, not bothering to look back or wave.

* * *

It was still the middle of the afternoon, if not later, and the heat and humidity were dragging Hope down as he worked diligently on a minor electrical failure in the transport. Naturally, it had to be the ventilation fans that went out, which was sure to make the trip home uncomfortably stuffy. He felt sluggish and knew that by then he'd likely sweated himself into a state of dehydration, but he just couldn't summon the will to leave the sub-deck mechanical space to grab the canteen. The worst was over – he'd already discovered the source of the problem, but as he carefully twisted the frayed wire sections to a new joining piece, the work in front of him began to jump in and out of focus, and he clumsily dropped the pliers onto the floor.

_That__'__s __it. __The __water __can__'__t __wait_.

Hope slowly climbed up through the floor panel, sitting against the cool, metal bulkhead for a moment before getting up and stumbling over to his rucksack, digging out the canteen and gulping down the last of what warm, mineral-heavy water remained from the last refill. It was better than nothing and it would buy him enough time to finish the job, but it couldn't take the edge off the heat. With the ship still powered down, none of the wiring could hurt him in the few minutes he would be under again, so he stripped off the uselessly soaked t-shirt and dropped it onto the rucksack, then headed back to the open panel in the deck.

"Hope," he heard from the entryway and instantly froze as he knelt beside the opening. Her timing was impeccable.

"Yes?" he said in a flat, tired voice, sitting back on his heels and turning to the door. Lightning showed only the briefest flash of surprise before looking down at the canteen she held in her hands.

"Not trying to interrupt, but Serah said you might need water – it's been over three hours, and that's too long in this heat."

_The woman is either telepathic, or an incredibly gifted guesser._

"I'm almost done. You can leave it on the deck; I'll be back out in five," Hope said hastily, sitting and swinging his legs into the hole and preparing to lower himself. Rapid footsteps crossing the panels stopped him; as much as he didn't want to deal with a still-conflicted Lightning while sweaty and fatigued, he gave up and pulled his legs out and around to rest his arms on his knees.

Lightning held out the canteen and he took it, unscrewing the cap and drinking the water down. This batch was much cooler, and obviously filtered well.

"Thanks," he said, a bit breathless after the long drink, and he replaced the cap and offered it back. "I take it Serah and the others are still training with the apothecary, running errands, etcetera, or _you_ wouldn't be here." Hope felt the bitterness in his words but didn't have the energy to try and hide it.

He was surprised when Lightning took the canteen and sat next to him on the deck. "When they're done, we have to go back to the outpost tonight, and I wanted to ask if you'd like to go with us. You don't have to, but you have every right; it might even help with the interrogation, if we run out of options."

"So they still haven't gotten any information, even after three days?" Hope did not see the point of another round, not after so many failed attempts.

Lightning looked momentarily impatient but went on to explain, "Interrogation is an art, Hope, and our more talented 'artists' had to tackle the first order of business by searching for the survivors; the guys who stayed behind with the prisoners are amateurs. We _will _get results tonight."

"How can you be so sure?" he asked skeptically. He appreciated the sentiment, but another letdown was far from desirable.

Her answer was immutable. "I'm personally seeing to it." Lightning set the canteen on the ground, moving to get up. Before she did, however, she turned to him and brushed a stray, sticky lock of hair away from his cheek. Hope could read her intentions in that rare moment, and against his better judgment, when she leaned in he did what was probably the most insane thing of his young life. He turned his head at the last second.

And met her lips with his own.

It was a brief, beautiful moment when he realised that Lightning had not yet slapped him and was instead pushing back against him – a bitter, salty, wonderfully soft kiss. And likely the longest five seconds he had ever experienced. Hope had just buried his fingers in her hair and settled in to suck on her lower lip when she pulled away, and he couldn't hold back a whimper at the disconnection. Flushed, she quickly disentangled his hand and wordlessly stood to leave.

Upon recovering his wits, an unwelcome guilt over his actions needled him as Lightning walked toward the exit ramp – _should __be __happy __she__'__s __not_ running – and he pulled himself together and got up to follow her.

"I… wait Light, I shouldn't have— I mean I'm so—"

"Stop," Lightning said sharply, holding up a hand but not turning around. He didn't move another inch. "If I wanted an apology, you would _know_ it." And she left. After her red half-cape had disappeared from view, Hope had a fleeting, irrational desire to start up the ship and see if the electric shock from twisting those wires would still have an effect. As confusing as her reaction had been, it felt like a small victory.

_If I live to do that again, I can die happy._


	13. Lock the Door

A/N: So yay! On time, despite being in the wee hours on the mainland :P Once this chapter got started, it poured onto the document surprisingly fast. I hope everyone enjoys the shift in gears, and I definitely want some useful feedback, so please do REVIEW as always :D Thanks again to everyone who has been following my little fic and spurring me on with awesome comments! No new vocab this time, but I'm noting a couple of phrases/usage points just in case:

*P-way: I've used this one before, but it's short for 'passageway' – Navy terminology :P

*Up the ante: in poker, you're raising the bet, effectively raising the stakes for other bidders; used to denote that someone is increasing the pressure/risk

(revised 30SEP11)

Lock the Door

"Don't take this the wrong way, Farron, but I don't think you're ready for this," Sergeant Lucil said with concern. Lightning refused to look up from unloading and cleaning the assembly of her gunblade, the rising frustration barely coming through when she spoke.

"With all due respect, I don't see why not. We need answers," she said matter-of-factly, polishing the metal with increased fervor, "and I _will _get them."

Lucil sighed impatiently. "You know good and well that I wouldn't point something out if it wasn't important, and you are _not_ in the right mindset to conduct a successful interrogation – not tonight, anyway. Tomorrow, sure, after you get a good night's sleep or—"

"Trust me, I won't sleep well with this on my mind, so that plan is flawed," Lightning interrupted as she set the gunblade aside, earning a grumble of annoyance from Lucil. "Just let me get it over with; I've had more than enough time to prepare."

"You've got a solid strategy, then?" Sergeant Lucil had the look of someone who'd seen her share of interrogations gone horribly wrong.

"Obviously," she answered without hesitation. Lightning had her own experience quota, and she never doubted herself when it came to performance – be it on the battlefield or in a holding cell.

"Ugh, fine then," Lucil relented. "Just make sure you _listen_ to Gadot's brief on their current status; I don't care if you think it's useful or not." She picked up the file on the survivors along with her own gunblade and prepared to leave. "Oh, and I meant to tell you that Sazh came by earlier to let us know that Snow and Hope decided to come along. They'll be here any minute now."

_Not good._

"But we don't need so many—" Lightning began, suddenly cut off as Snow stuck his head in the tent flap and announced his presence.

"Ready and waiting!" He looked straight at her, smiling conspiratorially about some secret of which she knew nothing, nor did she want to hear. Odds were, it would further dismantle her preparation for the interrogation.

On those same odds, it had something to do with the other person outside.

Thankfully, Snow lost the expression as quickly as it had formed, and his eyes turned to Sergeant Lucil. She shooed him out of the tent, following closely behind with the file in hand. Lightning was hesitant to join them; she heard the two men talking with Lucil, and for a couple of agonizing seconds, her stomach twisted up at the resurgence of every thought and feeling that had plagued her for the last three days – though more specifically, the last three hours. It was beyond ridiculous that Hope's proximity and voice had rendered her a nervous wreck. Not that it usually showed, but Lucil's trained eye had already picked up on the change when she reported in earlier that afternoon – resulting in a 'pre-interrogation' interrogation that she narrowly survived – and there would be no hiding it if she botched the session with the unit commander. These butterflies were more akin to a hungry swarm of locusts.

_I _can't _lose __it __like __this. __The __mission __comes __first._

Steeling her mind and concentrating on every detail they knew so far concerning PSICOM, Bartholomew and the other survivors, Lightning lost herself in the tedium of the task to come. It was her own personal version of meditation. When Lucil whipped open the tent flap again, looking agitated at the delay, Lightning was completely calm. Training had taken over.

"Hey, we don't have time to burn," Lucil said. "You _insisted_ on doing this tonight, so we've got to get over there before dark!"

Lightning nodded, expressionless, and she left the tent and headed down the trail without so much as a glance at Snow, Hope, or Snuggles. "Let's go," was her terse command in passing, and it was all they were going to get out of her. Even the wyvern sounded shunned – a half-hearted "Rrraaaa" died off mid-screech as she departed.

* * *

Standing clustered around Gadot in the outpost control room, the four arrivals paid varying levels of attention to his brief on the last three days' efforts to obtain information from the unit of PSICOM soldiers in their custody. Lightning had, for her part, at least committed to pick out highlights of importance rather than shut him out completely in order to concentrate on her own mental agenda. One mention of their detestable leader and she was all ears. Of interest, though not unexpected, the unit commander had locked up like a safe, and no one was able to get a word out of him since his confrontation with Hope, so they had tried a variety of strategies with the underlings.

"It's incredible," Gadot said incredulously, the bags forming under his eyes belying loss of sleep from multiple attempts. "I'll never understand how these PSICOM grunts have a shred of loyalty for their leadership – there's no way they've all lied outright _every __single __time _about being kept in the dark. At this point, I'm pretty sure they really _don__'__t_ know anything."

Lightning was unconvinced, and she made it abundantly clear. "That's impossible to tell. Twenty-seven men denying a claim over and over doesn't prove anything – I've heard of an entire battalion pulling it off."

Gadot flinched momentarily under the criticism, but he stuck to his guns. "I'm not ignorant enough to base it on one method or factor by itself, Sergeant," he said, an almost defiant edge creeping into his voice, which came as a surprise to Lightning from the gentle giant. "One of the radio operators cracked when Yuj mentioned the information Maqui relayed a couple of days ago about the rogue soldier who helped the survivors. Guess he knew the guy personally, and hadn't heard from him since that time."

"I thought you said no one gave you any useful information," Hope said a little prematurely, and Snow elbowed him. He refused to react, wincing but holding an insistent look toward Gadot.

The massive man chuckled, and then humored Hope, probably out of sympathy for his closeness to the issue. "Yeah, I wish that had gone somewhere. Turns out the operator had lost contact with his pal because of the incident, so he never found out what really happened. He just knew whatever that soldier did landed him in military prison – said he heard something generic, like 'disobeying a lawful order,' but he knew that was a load. So the radio guy cooperated with us out of gratitude for telling him _something_ for once, and he went on to talk straight about operations at the outpost."

"When you say 'operations,' I take it you mean something other than the daily schedule here – it's posted on the wall," Lucil said sarcastically, pointing a thumb at the bulletin board with a smirk, and Lightning couldn't help but feel that it was the sergeant's way of sticking it to her previously critical attitude and subtly encouraging the NORA member.

"Heh, yeah. _This _was the stuff you'd actually care about – he said straight up that the unit commander was a pompous douche bag who didn't believe in pass down unless it was absolutely necessary orders." Hope let out a short chuckle at the slander as Gadot continued his explanation.

"It's kind of sad, but none of the guys who are stationed here know what the mission is that they're supposed to be working toward, and none of them like the commander. Basically, morale is low. It showed in the way the soldiers responded to questioning, like they were bored out of their minds and wanted to go home. Every single one of them deferred to the unit commander in the end, and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know when a person just wants to get things over with."

Despite her initial impression, Lightning began to believe that Gadot's findings were accurate. She had only one more question.

"Were there any records of the troops' transfer orders? Some of them might have been around long enough to remember the incident on their own, but still lied about it."

"Got that covered," Yuj said from behind the group, maneuvering into their midst. "Based on the paperwork, everyone here was transferred out of the central command just a year ago, if not less than that. PSICOM's been changing up the entire personnel force every year since they set up the outpost – the only member who's been here since the beginning is the commander himself. If he doesn't talk, we're at an impasse. There are dozens of sites they could be using to detain the survivors, and that's just the ones we _know_ about."

Hope seemed unsatisfied with that conclusion, and jumped straight into another question. "What about the radio operator? Couldn't he get information from central command regarding the mission and say the unit commander needs it?"

Gadot shook his head, confirming the bleakness of the situation. "We tried; the unit commander is the only one authorized to access any information regarding classified records involving the survivors. All anyone else can request is tactical information related to their individual duties. The only things these guys know about the evacuation ship and its passengers are their numbers and names in case any bodies turned up, strictly for identification purposes. From what I've heard, they're all under the impression that it's not likely anyone survived the wilderness after the crash, but it's possible to find a body on a survey operation. The unofficial reason these soldiers are here is to do what we do – map the terrain and keep an eye out for enemy activity in the area, except they have no idea why it's needed _here_. So yeah, their situation sucked even before we came along."

The atmosphere around them thickened with resentment toward PSICOM and its ever-growing list of grievances toward friend and foe alike. At least, Lightning felt sure that she saw her own anger reflected in everyone else's expressions: Lucil was noticeably stiff, Snow looked ready to punch the nearest available inanimate object, and Hope had iced over again. She shivered involuntarily at the unbecoming hostility making a barrier around her normally inviting friend, herself beyond ready to deal out some form of revenge on the nearest representative of the enemy. The unit commander was in for a ride.

"Where is the commander being held?" Lightning asked, breaking the heavy silence.

Gadot emerged from his thoughts with a start. "Right, sorry. He's in the cell at the end of the second p-way to the right after you turn left out of this room. And one more thing: not sure if you'll use it, but the guy's name is Vargus."

"Got it," Light replied, heading out the door and making time. She heard trailing footsteps and was stopped short as someone grabbed her arm; she recognized the glove as Hope's, outright refusing to turn and face him.

Lightning was in no way going to be deterred. "Let go."

_Don't break my concentration._

"Light, it's important." He had no intention of going. In fact, she could have sworn his grip tightened.

"Then spit it out," she snapped, resisting the urge to use Hope's arm to twist, pin, and consequently incapacitate him in order to get to that cell.

"Leave the gunblade," he said succinctly, and Lightning turned and looked at him like he'd grown a second head. Sure, _asking_ was the right idea this time, but that didn't guarantee success – not by a long shot.

She immediately replied with a sharp "_No_," and tried to leave again, but he held fast.

_If you only knew the ways I could take you out…_

Sighing in concession, Hope adopted a different stance, suddenly releasing her arm just before she could act on the driving frustration, and it caught the soldier off guard. Instead of immediately darting down the p-way, Lightning froze in place. She faced him once again, this time considering the motivation behind his crazy antics.

"Explain yourself," she said, crossing her arms impatiently. The relief that subsequently transformed Hope's expression was downright confusing.

Fortunately, he wasted no time. "You remember the nightmare I had, right? The commander's unarmed, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't take your gunblade into the interrogation. That's all."

Lightning could see that he was dead serious, and more disconcertingly, trying to mask his intense concern with professionalism. It looked painful. For a fraction of a second, she felt disturbed by that lack of openness and knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was her fault. Through that guilt, and even though she believed that dreams and prophesies and the like had absolutely no credence, she had already caved to the instinct to provide for Hope's needs before the words left her mouth.

"Fine. I'll leave it outside the door," she said quickly, moving down the hall without a second glance as she tried to refocus all her attention on how to draw every last bit of information out of the self-serving, pathetic excuse for a commander.

_Everyone has a weakness._

When Lightning walked into the cold, gray room, unarmed except for the survival knife strapped in its pouch, she was really seeing Commander Vargus for the first time. Their initial confrontation on the field afforded her a partial profile view, but this scrawny excuse for a soldier would have been difficult for her to identify as the unit commander in a lineup. He sat cross-legged on the floor's exact center, wearing electro-lock cuffs over his now-rumpled uniform to secure his wrists behind him, a dusting of facial hair completing the disheveled look. The only intimidating factors were entirely in his bearing – his back was ramrod straight, and he regarded Lightning with a sharp glare and unflinching sneer.

Lightning drew on all the information she knew of him and had gathered from Gadot as she paced around the room, disregarding the subject as she detached herself.

_Transferred when the outpost was established; arrogant, self-serving, inordinate disgust with the surviving prisoners…_

For some reason, the overlapping data led to a flash of memory. Months before the Purge, Lieutenant Amodar had brought her along for an out-of-the-ordinary task – transferring a prisoner from Guardian Corps custody in the Bodhum district to the PSICOM central holding facility due to the nature of his final charges. It was the first time she'd met Jihl Nabaat. Among the frames of her memories of first impressions and formalities, she froze on a single shot, one of Nabaat and the subordinate she had just introduced. He ran the facility and worked very closely with her, she had explained to the Lieutenant. Even then, the man at her side practically oozed disdain for the two Guardian Corps visitors – his salute toward Lightning's own superior was less than smart, almost a mockery. She'd wanted to punch him.

_Wait. __I _know _Vargus._

With that revelation came a renewed confidence that she would make him squirm and get him to talk. And somewhere in the midst of his snide remarks, she'd ferret out the pertinent information.

In the end, she'd punch him anyway. That was the plan.

Lightning completed circling the room and leaned against the front wall, facing toward her subject but not making eye contact. In her own estimation, she looked bored.

"Here's the deal, Vargus – I don't want to waste any more time with you than absolutely necessary, so I'll keep it simple," she began, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's hard for me to believe, but Nabaat must have skimped on your training, that or you turned out to be an incompetent commander on your own, because one of your men has already cooperated with us. Clearly, you don't know your own subordinates well enough to realise that they have connections; it's a small world. If you come clean, we might reconsider throwing you to the gorgonopsids." It was still half true, but a bluff nonetheless, and Lightning was relying more on her own composure than she would have liked. Despite that, she saw the man's left eye twitch. He was going to crack.

_I'll give him a little encouragement._

Casually approaching the seated man, Lightning loomed in front of the commander, tapping her boot slowly, rhythmically. "Such a shame, having to kill off another Cocoon citizen. Oh well – you can take comfort in the fact that you'll be going the way of your mentor. I watched her die, shot down by her own Primarch. It was pointless, forgettable. Just like your death."

The commander was seething with palpable rage. Lightning heard a moist, raking intake of breath and looked down to see him spit phlegm on the toe of her boot. The gesture was almost comical.

Trembling, Vargus finally spoke up. "I know who you are, _Lightning_ Farron. Such a ridiculous name – almost as ludicrous as a former l'Cie daring to call herself a soldier. We'll purge you and your pathetic excuse for a resistance force as surely as we did those prisoners you're so bent on saving."

Nothing in his voice betrayed a bluff, but Lightning's instincts said otherwise. PSICOM wouldn't be stupid enough to eliminate any objects of leverage they might hold over the rebellion – she would stake her honor on it. Additionally, in his arrogant tendency to fling threats, he had given her one crucial fact: that they had done _something_ with the survivors. And he was actively trying to discredit her named source by denying whatever information he thought they knew.

Unmoved, she called his bluff. "That changes things," she said tonelessly. "Our source must have been mistaken about the timeline. Should save us the trouble of mounting an infiltration, especially considering the security – best to focus on the bigger mission and not waste time chasing down dead bodies." Lightning turned and headed for the door. "Enjoy your last few hours."

_Three, two, one…_

"Stop," the commander said sharply. "Only a fool would believe her enemy so easily. It's an insult to Cocoon's military, and I take it personally. Even a lowlife GC sergeant should have higher standards than _that_."

Now _he __shows __his __cards._

Lightning maintained her expression of boredom, taking up the former position against the wall to face a somewhat less hostile Vargus. No PSICOM member in his right mind would appeal to the military as a whole unless he was purposely being manipulative. Thankfully, he sorely underestimated her talents.

_Arrogance – nailed that weakness on the first shot._

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't take you at your word – honestly, it would be much more convenient to walk away from this never-ending rabbit trail of a rescue mission," she said nonchalantly. She refused to give the impression of any personal attachment to the situation.

Vargus stared blankly for a moment, seeming to momentarily believe her uncaring stance, but the sneer soon returned. "Well, aren't you the pragmatist. Too bad we can't say the same for your little mechanic friend; guess I'll never understand the illogical stubbornness of some people for their pet causes, especially you former l'Cie," he said, searching for a button to press. "It's as if you're all still anticipating the arrival of a new focus."

"Still waiting on that reason," Lightning said, refusing the bait.

"Hope Estheim," he practically spat, "should be reason enough, or does finding his father mean nothing to you and the rest of the team? Considering how it sparked this rebellion nonsense, I find that hard to believe."

Lightning was getting tired of dancing around the issue, but she needed to guide him to the point of leaking intel. Perhaps talking straight would give him the hint to move on or lose his chance. "It may have sparked the rebellion, but there was more than enough fuel to keep it burning. If Hope's father is dead, I'd rather let him know the truth and move on instead of wasting more time."

Sadly, she realized her mistake the moment that sentence had left her mouth. It was too personal. She should have used his last name, or even better, used Bartholomew's name. In most other situations, that detail would have been negligible, but this commander was grasping at straws, seeking any minor hole in her façade that would give him the upper hand.

When Vargus' sneer turned into something resembling a sinister grin, Lightning was not surprised. Unfortunately, his words were less predictable.

"So your friend wants the truth, does he? And he was counting on _you_ to get it. How sweet," he said with a mocking sugary tone. "Since it's really none of your concern whether his father is alive or dead, I'd much rather tell _him_. Bring him in, and I'll consider cooperating."

That was not what she wanted to hear. Giving in to his demands would mean giving him an edge in negotiations, and Hope would not be able to hide his emotions well, but she saw no alternative. The best Lightning could do was to maintain her unaffectedness.

"Fine, if that's all it takes," she said shortly, exiting the cell and reluctantly going back to the control room.

When she entered, everyone's attention snapped to her. Hope stood up. "Did he say anything?" he asked anxiously, and she felt utterly incompetent for failing to keep control and dragging Hope into another unpleasant confrontation with that horrible commander. She shoved down the feelings and met his gaze.

"He's talking, but he keeps avoiding the critical information. I've got him thinking that the comms operator already told us what we need to know, and he's tried to deny it by saying they killed the prisoners off." For a brief second, Hope looked absolutely mortified, and she immediately added, "Trust me, it's a bluff. He refuses to tell anyone but _you_ about your father's real circumstances."

Hope seemed naively enthusiastic about the challenge, reminiscent of herself as a young recruit. "Let's go, then," he said, walking hastily past Lightning and through the door. She rushed to keep up, trying to get in a few last-minute tips before he dove headfirst into a tricky situation.

"Listen, Hope, don't take anything he says personally – not if he insults your father, your mother, your friends, _anyone_. Understand?"

They were just outside the door when she whispered some final advice. "You can't win if he controls the conversation, so try not to show your emotions. And don't be surprised if I don't defend you; he thinks I'm cold and heartless."

"Don't worry so much, Light," Hope said with a muffled snort of laughter. He smiled at what must have been a sense of irony when his eyes fell on the gunblade leaning against the wall as a result of his own fretting, but his voice rapidly went cold when he spoke again. "I can take it. I remember the _last_ time we talked." At that, Hope snatched the access keycard from her hand and opened the door himself.

_Lucil was right – I'm not ready for this._

* * *

When Hope stepped into the room, he was thinking about his father – not in the usual way, but in the mentally-wearing-someone-else's-skin way. This was business, and no one knew business better than Bartholomew Estheim. Surely _something_ got passed down in those genes.

He did not immediately look at the man seated in the room's center, instead taking a seat himself, opposite the commander, and pulling out a small notebook and pen from his pocket. Hope flipped to the next blank page and scribbled a few notes about his former encounter with the subject, Gadot's brief, and Lightning's update, partly to waste time and see if Vargus would make the first move, and partly to give him points to address. He didn't have to wait long.

"You realise that your pitiful stalling act may well have cost your father his life," Vargus derided. "If you insist on wasting this opportunity, I'd prefer to talk with your lady friend."

The remark made his chest burn angrily, but Hope didn't stop or look up from the notebook. He recognised the commander's blatant attempt at goading and redirected. "I was under the impression that you intended to _tell_ me about my father. You know what to say – there's no need to ask again. Lying a second time would not be in your best interest." At that, he finally met the man's look, conveying every ounce of threatening emotion he could muster through his own eyes.

For once, that over-expressive weakness of his proved useful. Vargus tried to glare back, but the too-frequent blinks and lack of expected sharpness betrayed that he was faltering.

_This guy's glare couldn't hold a candle to Light's._

Again, the commander relied on his words. "Ha! You must have no faith in your source, or this would be pointless. What do you expect me to say?"

"You know _exactly_ what, but I think you misunderstand our purpose here, Vargus," Hope said condescendingly, watching fire flare up behind the commander's eyes. "Sergeant Farron may have been willing to humor your sad attempt at denying the facts, but I have no patience for giving you a second chance. This is about _your_ life, Commander, and whether you are willing to confirm our source and save your own skin, or face punishment." Hope didn't want to say death; honestly, death seemed too simple, too much of an easy way out. And he wanted Vargus to use his imagination. That was _always_ more potent.

When the commander did not respond for a long minute, Hope decided to up the ante. He looked at his watch, delivering a little something extra. "It's about… 2239 right now, and we'd like to wrap this up by 2300. Is twenty-one extra minutes sufficient time for you to contemplate your existence? PSICOM hasn't even noticed your situation, and your men have been more than willing to help us, so I wouldn't be worrying over 'devotion to duty' nonsense if I were you."

Hope could not have known that his comment had basically clipped the man's most sensitive nerve like a pair of wire-cutters. He had expected a death glare, maybe even a growl of contempt, but certainly not for the commander to spring up from the ground abruptly and aim a kick at his head. Thankfully, Lightning must have gotten the hint, and in a few swift moves she had dragged Hope back by the collar, blocked the kick and knocked Vargus' feet out from under him. He landed hard on his back with a loud thump and a scraping of metal as the cuffs ground against the cement.

_Well, I can't say that wasn't a warranted response._

Lightning hovered in preparation for a second strike, but the commander just groaned and sat back up, flustered and humiliated. His posture sank considerably, and he stared down at the floor.

"What could you possibly know about devotion to duty?" Vargus asked in a hollow voice, and Hope felt a stab of pity for the man. He hadn't really meant the hurtful things he said, but now that he thought about it, they really were _true_. The man was essentially hopeless.

"Enough to believe that you think you're doing the right thing." Hope decided to take a risk and level with his enemy. Deep down, he refused to believe that any single person was beyond fixing, and that had to include the commander. It was a matter of principle.

"I saw what happened to your former PSICOM leaders," he began, trying to come at it from an angle that would ensure acceptance. "Dysley, or should I say the fal'Cie Barthandelus, shot down Lieutenant Colonel Nabaat for no reason, and Director Rosch died after he called for the evacuation and let us pursue Barthandelus. _They_ were devoted to duty, and I'm sure deep down that you desire to be the same. But you have to understand – if Nabaat had turned from her corrupt leadership, she could have done something worthwhile. Rosch _did_ that. He realised that devotion to duty meant devotion to the people, even when the leadership said otherwise."

Vargus broke in, some of his former anger trying to rise up. "I have no sympathy for hypocrites. If you were so bent on saving the people of Cocoon, how can you possibly excuse your actions as a l'Cie?"

Hope was unphased – he'd heard that one before, and this presented a unique opportunity to set things straight, at least for one person. "That's exactly my point. As l'Cie, we did everything we could, despite the whole population wanting to kill us. We destroyed the fal'Cie who wanted to sacrifice all of humanity and tried to save Cocoon anyway, ignoring our focus. Now, none of us are even l'Cie anymore, but PSICOM is still afraid; a bunch of innocent people are imprisoned because of it, including my father. His only crime was trying to _protect_ me, and you want him to die for that. Do you have no sense of justice?"

_More importantly, do you believe me?_

Commander Vargus momentarily looked like he had seem a ghost – Hope had no idea _why_ – and then his brow wrinkled in thought; in the end, his expression became one of determination.

"I _do_. Perhaps it faded behind my ambitions for a while. But if you want my cooperation, you had best be prepared to make some sort of exchange, and not just my life. As much as I hate to admit it, you were right that it means nothing to PSICOM if I live or die; they would never trade the information to save me." He almost looked sad, thinking over whatever decision he was about to make. It had Hope on pins and needles.

Finally, Vargus settled the matter. "There is only one way I can be of use, but if I'm going to get into the central command for detailed prison rosters, I'll need a solid excuse to leave this post. Don't be fooled – even if one of my men somehow gave you intel on the current location of the prisoners, it won't do you any good. They constantly shift sites." Apparently, the formerly vicious man had dug up a fragment of real dignity long buried, and Hope felt much more gratified at finding a strong point than he had at exploiting a weakness.

He couldn't believe what he was about to say. "Thank you, Commander." And he meant it. "What do they need that you can give them, or at least pretend to give them?" Hope asked, maintaining professionalism as he stifled his excitement at finally finding a way to his father.

"There are a few options – PSICOM is always in need of natural resources and technology." The commander thought it over, suddenly lighting up with an idea. "I know what they need most, but it may be difficult to convince them. More virus cases have been wreaking havoc in the settlement over the last few weeks. The losses are unacceptable." But he stopped, shaking his head insistently against the idea as he said, "No, forget it. They do need a better treatment, but honestly, it seems wrong to use that kind of excuse, giving people false hope in such a devastating situation."

Hope had never been more enthused to hand over the solution on a silver platter. "Let's give them _real_ hope, then. Would an actual treatment be acceptable in exchange for your cooperation?" he asked, smiling as Commander Vargus became progressively more baffled.

Eventually, he spluttered, "Yes, yes – of _course_ that would be acceptable. Are you serious? Do you have any idea what this could mean?" But in the midst of his excitement, doubt crept in.

The commander exhaled, looking defeated at some new realisation. "That will never work. It's a huge bargaining chip for the rebellion if you really do have a new treatment, and I doubt that your superiors would want such an advantage squandered on a mission that gave them no credit."

He had a point, but Hope saw the easy solution. "There's one way to find out – I'll go ask!" he said eagerly, losing the previous restraint on his enthusiasm and getting to his feet in a hurry. He vaguely noticed the puzzled look on Commander Vargus' face as he left the room, and barely five steps down the hall he heard the door close again, Lightning's footsteps on his heels. He stopped and waited for her to approach, too overjoyed to really take in the annoyed look on her face.

"Hope, what are you _doing_?" she asked, and her irritation confused him.

He couldn't believe he had to defend himself. "Saving the survivors, and probably a large number of sick people. What does it _look_ like I'm doing?"

Lightning backed off slightly at his defensiveness, explaining more calmly, "I know you think this is best, but he was right about losing a bargaining chip that could turn the tide in this conflict. I can tell you right now that Nooj and the others won't agree. They have to do the most good for this cause."

"You're kidding, right?" Hope said incredulously, all the while knowing that she would never joke about something that serious. But it still seemed so impossibly wrong. "The most good for this cause? Our _cause_ is helping the people of Cocoon! Who cares if they get the virus treatment from PSICOM or from us, as long as they get _help_?" He didn't mean to go off on her in a fit of passion, but it was what it was. And it was giving him a headache.

Lightning huffed in frustration, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Maker, Hope. I can't give you a crash course in military strategy right now, so you have to trust me on this. How can I explain…," she said, toning down the irritation. "Look, you're not wrong, but you're being unrealistic."

That was the last straw. "_Unrealistic_? And who decides what's supposedly 'realistic' – you? We're working with a fungus-based remedy for a cure to a foreign disease on what used to be referred to as Hell, while fighting against a power-hungry military force driven by fear in order to save _my __dad_ and everyone else. And you expect to deal with this disaster by cutting our losses and being _realistic_ about it?" Hope was absolutely done arguing. Moreover, he was done taking the advice of someone who hadn't even experienced living for a month in reality as he knew it.

Lightning could not have looked more shocked; he might as well have punched her in the gut. Wide-eyed and backed against the opposite wall, she opened her mouth as if to say something, possibly some weak defense, but he was determined to have the last word for a change. Hope met her gaze, his anger dying down to its core: a little knot of hurt and disappointment.

"Trust me, if anything is unrealistic, it's your expectations of people." He almost choked on the words, turning and striding quickly away before he lost his nerve. He was going to ask Sergeant Lucil in spite of what Lightning had said, and he was going to make this work, somehow.

_It had to be said. We all have priorities, Light._


	14. No One's Blaming Me

A/N: In honor of the Navy Ball which is going to dominate my evening, I am posting early :D Seems the Navy has a way of bringing about the rare ahead-of-time chapter. Anyway, according to my beta, this installment doesn't move the plot much, but I really liked it and I know that after this the plot is going to drive itself off a cliff, because like it or not, we're getting closer to the end! So enjoy this bit of not-super-essential introspection and fun – there won't be much in future. But please do REVIEW :D Have a fine Navy day! Oh, and I have one vocab point and one explanation:

* about face: 180 degree military/marching maneuver, but here, it's just another way of saying 'turn around'; I'm sure most of you knew that

* concerning sealant: most sealants, like caulk in a shower, require around half an hour to set and an hour or so to fully dry, which is why I made a point about the quick set/dry time for the sealant mentioned. It's feasible to expect a near-instant set sealant in the world of FFXIII. And the stuff about sealant fusing with fibers is absolutely true! Word to the wise, if any of you ever use it :P

Disclaimer: Square Enix has all the rights, but I bend it to my will!

(revised 29SEP11)

No One's Blaming Me

It was the messiest kind of clash, the kind against well-meaning idealism. Lightning got the feeling that she had been emotionally disemboweled – it wasn't necessarily fatal, but it was awfully painful. The worst of it was that she knew in her head that her words had been right (she refused to use the term realistic), but everything else felt wrong. _She_ felt wrong. Even hours later, as the bedraggled soldier sat in front of the tent with a quickly cooling cup of instant coffee in her hands, she hashed and rehashed the chain of events in hopes of finding a way to make amends.

_Never was my strong point._

After the shock had worn off from Hope's confrontation with her, Lightning remembered picking up her gunblade from its place against the wall and wandering mindlessly toward the control room, where she played the uninvolved spectator to Hope's discussion with Lucil and the others. Mercifully, he made no mention of their altercation when he reported Commander Vargus' terms, simply presenting his own suggestion to the group as persuasively as possible. Occasionally, a question was aimed at Lightning, and she mechanically gave whatever short response was needed. In the end, Sergeant Lucil had seriously considered the treatment exchange as a valid option, putting off confirmation up the chain of command until the next day.

Against all odds and strategic sense, Lightning wished that she was wrong, that Nooj would somehow find it acceptable to trust Vargus with the viral treatment and get what they needed to save the survivors. Otherwise, Hope was going to feel the rejection of this chance at rescuing his father as salt in a wound that she had created herself. And she was hitting walls at every turn to try and come up with an alternative. Lightning had nothing to legitimately apologise for, but the only way to settle the score with Hope would be to give him another solution – let him know that she was _trying _to help, and she did care.

_I can't go empty-handed._

The situation was hopeless in every sense of the word. She'd lost a night's sleep and was burning daylight on the issue, but to no avail. Lightning took a sip of the coffee, instantly spitting out the cold, bitter stuff – she didn't even notice the sudden arrival of her sister in her distracted state. When a soft, shuffling sound prompted her to look up, Serah was already standing right in front of her.

"Wow, Sis. I heard the interrogation went _well_ last night, but Snow does tend to look on the bright side," Serah said, her brow creased with worry. "Wanna talk about it?"

_In other words, I look like hell._

Under normal circumstances, Lightning preferred to keep her sister out of the loop on personal matters, but regarding the exchange dilemma, it occurred to her that Serah's knowledge of the new remedy could shed a different light on the issue and open up some other possibilities that she hadn't been able to see from the military perspective. At the very least, she could arm herself to handle the personal mess later, alone.

Lightning set the cup on the ground. "Yes, I do."

"Really?" Serah's surprised reaction was amusing, if expected.

"We can go over the details inside," Lightning said plainly, standing and heading back toward the tent flap. One foot in the opening, she turned to make sure that Serah was following, and her stunned sister seemed to come back to reality, hurriedly crossing the small dirt patch to join Lightning.

It took the sleep-deprived soldier approximately fifteen minutes to cover the important points of the entire evening, in spite of Serah's frequent interruptions with questions. When she finally explained the central point – namely, Hope's desire to let the commander use their treatment to get intel versus the certain-to-be desire of the rebel leaders to maintain its secrecy for future use in negotiations – her sister wore a curious expression. One that reminded Lightning very strongly of a suspicious mother catching her child in a lie.

"Anything else?" Serah asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"No. That's all the information you need," Lightning responded, careful to keep it generic, uninflected.

Serah wasn't fooled. "That's not what I meant. What else _happened_, Sis?" she asked with concern. When Lightning crossed her arms defensively, preparing another refute, the tiny woman quickly backed up her accusation. "And don't say 'nothing.' You're a terrible liar, and that still screws you up when you're lying by _omission_. So just _tell_ me already."

_Must have tried too hard. Am I _too_ emotionless?_

Whatever the case, Serah was off topic. "It doesn't matter," Lightning said begrudgingly. "I need your help to think of a solution, so _help_." And when her sister looked hurt from the force of her words, she softly tacked on, "Please."

That seemed to do the trick. Serah rested her chin on her hands as she spent a minute or two in careful thought, and Lightning waited patiently for what might be her only chance at finding a way to solve Hope's problem – and solve her own in the process. When Serah sat up straight again, the soldier was anxious, ready to listen.

And about to be disappointed.

"I've got it!" Serah said excitedly, and Lightning felt a fleeting impulse to hug her sister, but it was squelched by the rest of her response. "If you tell me what else is bothering you, I'll tell you how to work this out."

Lightning groaned in frustration. She was getting tired of making deals, trading residences, apologies, dreams, questions, and even some unspoken measures of affection – granted, most of them were by her own suggestion. That aside, letting Serah know what had transpired with Hope was sure to come back and bite her.

"Telling you would be telling Snow. If I told you, I'd have to kill you," she said sardonically, a part of her already silently accepting that her sister was going to get her way.

Serah laughed, and then made an attempt at reassurance. "I don't tell him _everything_. Do you really think I'm such a bad sister that I'd go against your wishes? You can trust me – I'm making a fair exchange. Please?" With that, her eyes got larger and sadder than Lightning had seen in a long time, a bonus play for cooperation.

_Maybe Hope took lessons from her. He's even better._

When she thought of him, she thought of the mess again, except this time Lightning consciously acknowledged it asher own fault. Something about what Serah said made her suddenly understand the feeling of wrongness that had prevailed despite knowing that her argument was logically right. It wasn't about being right. It was about being fair – something she_ hadn't_ been, by writing off Hope's idea as not only impossible, but foolish and naïve. On top of that, he had been right about her. Deep down, Lightning knew that she expected too much of herself, and it carried over to her expectations of others. She judged harshly, by unrealistic standards.

Promptly, the invisible stomach wound opened up again, and for what might have been the first time, Lightning saw her sister the medic as a source of help on the personal level. It was still a struggle, but the bigger part of her wanted to be forthright with Serah. The situation was as close to a win-win as it would ever be.

"Alright," Lightning said quietly, resignedly, but she could tell by the hint of pain mirrored on Serah's face that her own expression wasn't too concealing. "It's about Hope. I made a stupid mistake, and I'm not proud of it."

Oddly, her sister's expression shifted from pained, to shocked, and then to somewhere between shocked and placating. She seemed to be struggling for words, and when she took Lightning's hands and leveled her gaze, Lightning was further confounded.

"Sis," she said reassuringly, "there's no reason to be ashamed. If you don't want to tell me the details, I understand."

Now Lightning was confused _and_ curious. "Why wouldn't I be? And what's wrong with details?"

_What do you think I _did_?_

Serah looked slightly horrified, and then annoyed. "Do I have to spell it out for you? I mean, I knew you two were close, but I wouldn't have thought _that_ close at this point. And I hope that you'd_ want _to spare the details."

_Oh Maker._

Had the disaster that was the previous night_ not_ been preceded by three days of closer interactions with Hope, as well as the thoughts and feelings brought on by those interactions, Lightning would have laughed out loud. In Serah's little I'm-in-a-committed-relationship-and-loving-it world, her sister must have projected her own perceptions and wishes onto the information she was given, resulting in the oh-so-flattering assumption that they had slept together. Which was, strictly speaking, true. All told, even though Serah was wrong and embarrassment was pointless, Lightning's face heated up like a furnace and she held her head, mortified.

She finally managed to speak, if only to clear up the misunderstanding. "No, no – you've got the wrong idea. I can't believe you thought…" Lightning sat up straight, willing the blush to fade away as quickly as possible. She cleared her throat, and then said simply, "I got into a _fight _with Hope."

Serah still seemed unsatisfied. "And that's _all_ you 'got into'?" Lightning shot her a dangerous glare, and she quickly qualified, "Okay, okay. I just don't want to be surprised by any crazy additions to the story. Go ahead with the details." It might have been Lightning's overtaxed mind playing tricks on her, but she could have sworn that her sister sounded the tiniest bit disappointed.

"Not much to say," Lightning said with a sigh. "When Hope said he was serious about using the treatment, I basically shot him down. I said it was unrealistic, that Nooj would never agree to it, and he just… blew up."

After several seconds of silence, Serah finally responded. "Well, I see why that would _bother_ you, but it would be easier to understand why you're so upset if I knew what Hope had said. I swear I won't tell Snow anything, okay?"

Lightning hesitated. She buried her face in her hands, and her first words were a muffled "Ugh, I'm such an idiot." When she looked up, Serah was still waiting expectantly.

"Fine." _Better to get this over with._ "He went off on this idealistic speech about how our cause was to help the people of Cocoon," Lightning said quickly, and then she quietly finished, "and he said if anything was _unrealistic_, it was my expectations of people." It still stung. Lightning hated to repeat it, hated having to face Hope's look of disappointment conjured in her mind – she knew it showed all over her face.

Serah was wide-eyed. "Maker, when you said you had a fight with Hope, I honestly thought you'd ripped him a new one and felt bad about it. I mean, I love you Sis, but I've gotta ask – how's it feel to get a taste of your own medicine?"

_Fair question. _

"Awful," Light admitted. She remembered her supposedly justified, but ultimately false, assumption that her sister had lied about being a l'Cie, and all its hurtful consequences. Regaining her bearings, she softly asked, "So will you help me out?"

Smiling, Serah patted her head. "Of course I will, silly. It'll take a few steps to fix this, so pay attention. And don't interrupt."

Lightning narrowed her eyes a bit, but nodded.

"Right. First off, I understand how important this remedy could be as a bargaining tool, but it doesn't have to be a black-and-white, 'use it or lose it' problem," Serah said, and at Lightning's questioning look, she explained further. "We all know that the villagers' remedy is only effective on first stage infections, so why not send a sample with the commander so he could get us the information? In its current form, that treatment's not going to help PSICOM eliminate the more critical problem of relapses, so they wouldn't have an advantage over the resistance at all. Especially not once we've finished combining our own research with the apothecary's work to make a much better formula."

The information about further development came as a surprise. Lightning had not considered that Serah and the other medical staff would already be actively making plans to refine an imperfect remedy, and she was astounded. She started to open her mouth to thank her sister, but Serah held up a hand.

"I'm not finished," she said, and Lightning muttered under her breath impatiently, but otherwise listened in silence.

"Next, I can explain this to Lucil myself, or even Nooj if I have to. I get the feeling they'll see things my way," Serah said confidently, and then made her final point. "And last but not least, you've got to go clear this up with Hope yourself. I'd talk to him for you, but that's such an elementary school method." She laughed, and Lightning got a sinking feeling despite the situation having vastly improved; she frowned instinctively.

Serah crossed her arms. "Don't give me that look. I'll go talk to Lucil right now – _you_ go talk to Hope." Even tiny and unintimidating, her sister was every bit as stubborn as herself. Serah stood, leaving the tent and the discussion with no room for argument.

"Good luck," she said on the way out. Alone and dreading another confrontation, Lightning sank into her folding chair.

_This calls for more coffee._

* * *

The ventilation was fixed. Moreover, Hope had greased the fan rotors, reinforced the new wiring, sealed several insignificant cracks and cleaned the full interior. Of _both_ transports. It was all to no avail.

_Why can't my brain just turn _off_?_

He stumbled over to the canteen, finally giving in to the insistent alarms trying to make sure his body didn't keel over from lack of basic necessities. In a way, it had been an experiment – so long as there was something more pressing to focus on, like hunger or thirst, Hope thought, other things wouldn't weigh on his mind. But in the middle of a heat wave, it was simply too dangerous to keep it up, and every time his vision went out of focus he ran the risk of losing tools or making careless errors.

Taking a drink, he was surprised to find there was barely a mouthful left. "Ugh, perfect," he mumbled to himself, reluctantly taking the canteen and leaving the transport for the supply tent. He assumed it had gotten even hotter than the day before, considering the number of canteens he'd gone through while still managing to feel dehydrated. Water wasn't helping, aspirin wasn't helping… nothing was helping.

_Light would have helped, if I hadn't told her off._

Hope shook his head clear, ducking into the tent and crossing to the water containers to fill the canteen. The spigot was painfully slow, and standing there forced him to dwell on the bothersome issues that he'd spent all morning pressing to the very back of his mind – the interrogation and his argument with Lightning. For the hundredth time, everything came rushing back, from his fears about the gunblade to the joy of finding a solution in the viral remedy to the anger in his heated disagreement with her. He had felt absolutely justified in his words the night before, assured that everything he'd said to her was true, and probably deserved.

'_Probably' isn't good enough. Just an excuse for inexcusable behavior._

In truth, he felt terrible. Serving up payback wasn't nearly as glamorous as people made it sound, and Hope would never understand his logic in empathizing with the commander who had shipped his father away, and less than five minutes later lashing out at the woman he cared about more than anyone or anything else. Perhaps that was the problem – he _hadn't_ been logical. When he thought about her words now, it seemed more like Lightning's weird way of trying to save him from falling into another pit of despair, but at the time, he was too hurt to see it. Too busy being disappointed that she didn't want to leap at that opportunity to save his father and cure victims of the virus as enthusiastically as he did.

It wasn't his first stupid mistake by any stretch, but at least taking Lightning's gunblade had been the result of good intentions. His actions this time were purely selfish, a snap-back reaction to his own fear. If Nooj and the others refused to accept the plan to use the remedy, it would be his just deserts.

Hope jumped back to reality at the feel of water dribbling over his hands from the overfull canteen and quickly closed the spigot. He drank some of the water, replaced the cap, ducked out of the supply tent—

—and blindly slammed into an equally zombie-like Lightning. Hope automatically reached out and grabbed her arm before he could add insult to injury by knocking her over. After the flash of surprise on her face, she froze, silent and rigid. Her gaze immediately fell and stayed on the empty mug in her hands. It couldn't have been more than a few uncomfortable seconds for both parties, but a dizzying mass of thoughts for what he could, or_ should_, say bombarded his mind.

_Are you okay? I'm an idiot. It was my fault. I was wrong. You were right. Forgive me? I'm sorry._

"Sorry." It was a miracle he'd said _something_. Hope noticed that he was holding onto her arm for dear life and released it with a start.

He couldn't blame her if she refused to speak to him for a while. But as she brushed past him into the supply tent, he heard a quiet "So am I" just before the flap closed behind her. It didn't fix the problem, but it was a start. If an illogical one.

_What on Pulse does she have to apologise for? _Not_ slapping some sense into me? _

Whatever the case, he'd take what he could get. It hadn't seemed like the right moment for making amends in proper fashion, and Hope got the feeling that Lightning wasn't too happy to see him as it was. He made a beeline for the transport he had piloted, almost wishing that something else would break down and buy him more time from thinking about every conceivable method of groveling. On his way, he was intercepted by a very excited Snuggles and the master he was dragging around – an even better prospect for blessed distraction.

"Whoa, Snuggles! No! _Stop!_" Snow yelled, and the wyvern dropped to the ground right in front of Hope, sniffing him head to toe in search of a treat. Hope half expected him to wag his tail.

"Rrrraaaakkk!" he screeched, ducking his spiny head to bump Hope's hand. He had to admit, the monster was smart.

Even as out of breath as he was, Snow laughed at his crazy pet, patting Snuggles' side as he pulled out a little piece of jerky from his pocket and tossed it in the air for the wyvern to catch.

"Sorry 'bout that – I should've let him hunt longer for breakfast. Little guy's growing like crazy!" Snow held up his rope-burned hands, courtesy of their 'morning walk.'

Hope smiled and shook his head, knowing Snow would just spout some motivational cliché like 'no pain, no gain' if he tried to protest about the drawbacks of monster training. From the looks of things, Snuggles wasn't going anywhere, and he had nearly grown to Snow's height. Hope fished around in a pocket, producing a tube of ointment and tossing it to Snow. "Use this. It's good for electrical burns. Sorry I don't have gauze, but I'm sure Serah would _love _to wrap you up."

Snow just smirked and pocketed the tube. "Hope, if I didn't know better, I'd never believe some of the crap that comes out of your mouth."

"Can't say I believe it myself," Hope muttered under his breath, but Snow gave him a suspicious look.

"You're crazy if you think I can let _that_ one go. Reading is probably my weakest ability, but even _I _can read you like a picture book, so come clean or I'll just annoy it out of you," Snow said. Despite his teasing tone, Hope recognised the very genuine request immediately.

_I think both Snuggles _and_ Snow can smell guilt._

Hope shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to act unaffected. "Not sure what you're getting at – I've been working on the ships all morning. Pretty sure taking a shower is the only way for me to 'come clean' right now."

"Save it," Snow said. "Not that that's a bad idea – might scare the Almighty Lightning away if you don't!" He laughed at Hope's glowering expression. Probably because he knew that anger wasn't what brought on the blush.

"You're insufferable." Hope changed course and headed directly for the portable shower. As he stalked off, he heard Snow yell after him, "Wait! I had something really important to tell you!"

Hope stopped in his tracks and did an about face, crossing his arms and waiting impatiently.

"First of all," Snow said, catching his breath after having dragged Snuggles along again, "nice ten-point word. I've gotta step up my game with the insults. But more importantly, Lucil just got off the radio with Nooj about our plan of action."

"And?" Hope became all nerves.

Snow grinned. "And they want to use your crazy plan. I couldn't believe it!" he said excitedly, and Hope felt relief wash over him.

But Snow was not finished, and he continued without pause. "And another thing – I saw Serah talking with Lucil and joining in the radio discussion, so I think she must've had something to do with their decision. Not sure how or why, but you might want to thank her later."

"Definitely!" Hope exclaimed. He could hardly believe it himself, and he tried to hug the messenger out of gratitude.

Snow held out a hand and blocked him with ease, laughing. "No way, man! Go shower before you try to 'thank' anyone."

"Fair enough," Hope said, laughing with him, and as he ran off toward the showers again, he called out, "When you see Serah, tell her I love her more than the most!"

Snow shouted back, "Fat chance!"

The shower was a good idea. Since day one on site, the tent containing the portable stall had been set up just in front of the northern tree line, with the pump placed at a small creek not far from the edge of the clearing. There was something about cold woodland water that tended to clear the senses – that and drive away the heat. It may have been the most beneficial ten minutes of Hope's day. The carefree mood stuck with him as he dried off and got dressed, wadding yet another sweaty t-shirt and zipping up the coveralls over clean skin.

He headed back toward the transport feeling refreshed, but the issue with Lightning had already resurfaced, complete with accompanying headache, before he'd set foot on the entry ramp. It was impossible to ignore a negative memory attached to someone typically at the forefront of his mind. Inside the warm but shady metal haven, Hope plopped down on the floor next to his rucksack, rummaging around and recovering a spare t-shirt. He pulled down the top half of the coveralls, put on the shirt, and tied off the coveralls at his waist. Same everyday motions, but far from everyday problems. Leaning back against the bulkhead, Hope closed his eyes.

"Where can I even start?" he wondered aloud, groaning at the predicament.

"You can _start_ by getting me out of here!" a muffled voice yelled from below the floor, punctuated by a loud bang against the underside of a panel beside him, and Hope nearly jumped out of his skin. He'd know that voice anywhere.

But he had no clue _why_ she would be in the sub-deck workspace. "Just a sec, Light!" he shouted to the panel, feeling around the left edge and triggering the latch. It was easy to see _how_ she had gotten trapped – all it had taken was one instance last year of him forgetting to set the holding mechanism and he had been stuck sleeping in the wire-riddled space overnight.

Hope looked down into the opening, barely able to make out Lightning's eyes glowing with fury in the darkness. "Over here – just climb the wall brackets," he said, puzzled that she had not yet made a move. It was only three or four meters to the bottom at most.

"Maybe I would, if I wasn't _stuck_ to the _floor_!" Lightning replied through gritted teeth.

_Oh no. Of all the things to forget…_

The sealant. That stuff was notoriously quick to set, usually a plus factor. He'd left the applicator tube on the floor with its cap loosely resting on the nozzle, just enough to keep the air out – a bad habit that had now been promoted to the status of unforgivable. It was unclear how life-threatening the situation was about to be for him.

"Okay, hold on a sec. I'm coming down," Hope said quickly before turning to grab a small solar lamp from the rucksack, and then lowering himself into the hole, dropping to the floor just in front of Lightning's feet. By the blue light of the lamp, he spotted and picked up the familiar knife – the object she'd thrown at the panel – and saw that she was sitting with her legs out in front of her, arms resting on her knees, and one boot removed and lying on its side. That did not bode well. Moving the lamp slightly, he saw that the obviously stepped-on tube lay just to the right and behind where she sat, a glossy trail of liquid sprayed from the nozzle disappearing underneath her. She had apparently slipped in the sealant and landed in it. Now, Lightning was squarely on top of the solidified puddle.

_Well, this constitutes a third strike. I'm going to die._

"This is _not _good," Hope muttered.

Lightning looked like she wanted to leap up and choke him. "Understatement of the century," she practically growled. "I barely saved the boot. It's not like I have access to any more uniforms – Cocoon's destruction took care of _that_."

"Well, it could be worse…" Hope said timidly, trying to stay positive.

"How could it possibly be _worse_? My skirt is _glued_ to the floor!" Lightning had reason to be furious, but he felt a burning desire to crack up at the absurdity of it all.

Smothering the impulse, Hope crossed the space and dared to squat down beside the angry soldier, quickly giving her the knife before carefully picking up the tube of sealant, then reaching to grab the shot-off cap from behind her and tightly screwing it back on. He set the sealant aside and knelt on the floor next to Light's legs in the narrow space.

On the bright side, this presented a challenging task. "Guess you're right. Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" he asked, trying to treat the situation like any other common mishap rather than what it was – highly improbable and incredibly uncomfortable.

Lightning's animosity was thankfully dying down to smoldering frustration. "Just give me both, and fast," she grumbled, securing the knife in its pouch.

"Okay," he began, taking a breath. "So, you _can_ get out of the skirt, I assume," he said, then paused, receiving an answering glare before forging ahead, "and I can use a scraper and solvent to get the skirt off the floor, but there's no possible way to get the sealant out of the skirt. It fuses with the fibers in clothing."

"Perfect," she grumbled.

Hope just couldn't keep his reassuring mouth shut. "It's not that big of a deal, right? You can just wear the undershorts until Serah makes a new skirt for you."

"And you know this _how_?" Light asked, fury returning full force.

"I'm not _blind_. You're an acrobatic fighter." Hope could practically feel the shovel in his hands as he dug himself a hole; recklessness tended to follow him when there was very little left to lose.

The silence dragged past the point of awkward. He couldn't be sure if Lightning had turned red in the face with rage or embarrassment, but he took that as a cue to leave the vicinity. "I'll just be back in five – no rush," he said hastily, getting up and climbing out of the space.

After quickly digging around in the supply cabinet in the back of the transport, Hope triumphantly returned to the opening several minutes later with both scraper and solvent in hand.

"Can I come down there, Light?" he called, and she immediately answered with an impatient "Yes."

Once inside, Hope went to work scraping the mostly-dried sealant from the floor, and Lightning made it her business to oversee the entire process. With her jacket held tightly closed over the shorts, she hovered in silence next to the wall of wiring, as if he was somehow going to further damage the permanently ruined skirt in the process of removal.

_A little conversation wouldn't hurt._

"Light, at the risk of sounding like a moron," Hope began, finally getting the outer edge of the sealant loose, "why did you come down here?"

Lightning hesitated, but then was uncompromisingly straightforward. "I was trying to find you," she said. "Your rucksack was beside the hole, and I thought you had gone further into the space. I climbed down, the panel shut behind me, and I was stuck in the dark."

Hope was at a loss for why she had gone to such lengths to track him down. Particularly in light of his words after the interrogation, as well as her avoidance at the supply tent.

"Well, I'm here now. So, what did you want?" He continued to scrape, sparingly using some solvent to speed the process – half of the rubbery sealant was already free of the floor.

"A lot of things," she said, almost inaudibly, and Hope got the feeling that Lightning hadn't intended him to hear that response over the scraping. Whatever the case, it made him nervous. Not so much in a bad way.

She actually replied, "To tell you… that my behavior last night was unacceptable."

It was a perfect chance to fix things, and Hope jumped on it. "Look, don't apologise for being_ right_. I know you were trying to help, and it wasn't fair for me to make a personal stab at you, so if anything—"

"_Don't_. You were right, too, so let's leave it at that." Lightning effectively ended the discussion. "Truce?"

It was funny how such a ridiculous situation had been the catalyst for solving a major conflict. His stupid sealant and her stupid skirt had somehow managed to bring them back together – he could only hope with the same level of permanence. Hope turned and smiled, holding out the ruined, but removed, piece of clothing for Lightning to take. "Truce."

A large area of the back of her skirt was stiff with sealant, but after a quick inspection, Lightning turned and hurriedly put it back on over the black undershorts.

"My jacket will cover it, I think." She looked back over her shoulder, her expression silently asking for his opinion.

_Covering the _skirt_ isn't the main challenge here._

He nodded in approval, fighting in vain not to blush – at that angle, she was all legs. "Yeah, no one's going to notice," he said honestly. _Stop staring and move on. _"I-I don't see why your uniform includes a mini-skirt in the first place."

"Ask the self-serving males who designed the thing," Lightning said dryly as she turned back around, picking up the boot to check that the sealant on its sole had dried before pulling it back on. "I'm lucky they even thought of undershorts."

Hope laughed, and then grabbed the tube of sealant and tools. "If I ever run into those guys, I'll be sure to ream them for you," he said, _and then I'll thank them._ He stood and headed for the rungs on the wall, but felt himself being held back by the force of slender but immovable arms as they encircled his waist from behind, pulling him in.

For a few seconds, Lightning was silent, resting her head on his shoulder blade. Happiness and indecision gripped him, and he wanted terribly to drop everything and turn around, but feared that she would simply let go. Hope remained frozen until she finally spoke up.

"Thanks for helping me out," she said. He felt the vibrations of her voice against his back, felt the tiny buckles on the straps of her uniform pressing into him, and the cramped mechanical space seemed to heat up like an oven. Before he got the chance to say or do anything in response, Lightning released him, rapidly increasing the distance between them with a sudden shove.

"But learn to stow your materials properly," she scolded, and he grinned at the soldier's typical snap back to focus.

Hope turned momentarily, giving her a mock salute with the scraper. "Roger that, Sergeant." He could feel Lightning's glare burning a hole through him as he hurriedly climbed out of the space.

_She hasn't knocked me senseless yet – might as well push my luck._

* * *

End Note: "I love you more than the most" is something my mom and I have used for years – I referenced it for familial undertones that have been created between Hope and Serah.


	15. The Wheels, The Air

A/N: Much time and effort – sweat and tears (not admitting to blood) – went into this chapter, so I really am hoping for a good review response! PLEASE do review, especially since the next chapter will likely be MUCH later because I'll be indisposed for a bit, courtesy of the Navy :D It's uncertain when and where I will have internet access, if at all, so don't be surprised if the post following this chapter is a month later or something crazy. I promise I AM in the process of writing it, it's the uploading that may be out of reach temporarily. That said, forgive the suspense :I

And here are a few helpful concepts before delving into this massive chapter:

*Intranasal syringes look very much like a slightly different, plastic version of any other syringe, so please don't be confused by the concept of a mist-administered treatment (like Flumist) having the same parts (needle, plunger, etc.) as an intravenous syringe. I say this because my beta had issue with it.

*While elemental sulfur is not toxic to humans (even if the smell is strong), sulfur dioxide (given off by burning sulfur in some refining processes or from volcanoes/geysers) IS toxic, and can cause labored breathing in small amounts, or asphyxiation in concentrated amounts.

Disclaimer: As always, Square Enix owns it. Oh pooh.

(revised 30SEP11)

The Wheels, the Air (the metal, the mouth)

Major Nooj had a thing against drawing straws. Lightning had merely been 'assigned' the short one.

"Pack your stuff Farron, 'cause you're going to PSICOM HQ!"

Sergeant Lucil sounded almost too excited about sending one of their most seasoned fighters into the heart of enemy territory, even if it was just an escort mission. Being undercover meant no backup – numbers heightened the risk of exposing a plot. Every little advantage helped, but knowing her luck since waking on Pulse, anything that could go wrong generally did.

_Should be fun._

Lightning just nodded in acceptance. "Did you tell the rest of the team?" she asked, really hoping for a 'yes.' That part would be more uncomfortable than usual. Serah had years of experience with getting last-minute word about Lightning's departure for duty and patiently awaiting her return, but Hope would react, and strongly.

"Ha, like I would deny you the pleasure," Lucil replied, smirking. "You've got half an hour till Nooj gives the radio brief, and not much time after that to get your stuff together, so I suggest you get on it."

"Roger that." _One __day, __I__'__ll __be _your _positional __superior. __Karma __demands __it._ Lightning swiftly exited the tent, heading straight for Serah's medical transport across the clearing. It would be better to tackle the more predictable task first as a warm up.

Inside her makeshift lab, Serah was oblivious to the world, sitting at a table full of bottles and pages of notes as she inspected a tiny plastic device – it looked like a syringe, but something was different. Lightning hovered for another several seconds puzzling over the project before making her presence known.

She placed a hand on her sister's shoulder. Serah jumped, hitting the underside of the table and rattling the objects on its surface, but thankfully not damaging a thing. She turned her head and pulled off the safety goggles.

"Sis?" Serah's expression quickly changed from one of surprise to one of understanding at Lightning's gesture – she had to know the nature of the news after so many similar 'mission briefings' over the years.

Lightning looked toward the table. "You know why I'm here."

"More or less," Serah replied. "You're leaving. Do I get to know the details this time?"

"Yes," Lightning said, regaining some resolve. "Nooj tasked me with escorting the commander to PSICOM Central – it's undercover, just insurance for the intel. Three days and I'll be back."

Her sister had gotten more adept at hiding her worry, a testament to practice as a military dependant, but a glimmer of it still passed over her eyes.

"Good. Come back in one piece – and don't pull a Snow and try to be heroic. I think you know how much we all need you here," Serah said, calm but firm in her demands.

"Done," Lightning promised. "I'll see you at the briefing, but I'm leaving right after, so take care of yourself… and Hope, for me."

Serah grinned mischievously at first, but her expression softened as she quietly replied, "Like always."

Lightning wrapped an arm around her sister in a brief hug and said a hurried "Thanks" as she left the medical transport. Goodbyes were simply too much.

* * *

The rest of her task didn't go as planned. It was five minutes until the radio briefing, and Lightning continued to hunt high and low in every section of the campsite for Hope. He wasn't in either of the transports, the supply tent, the showers, or any of the various tents housing Guardian Corps and NORA members scattered around the clearing. After checking his usual workspace in the transport a fourth time, she finally gave up and sped over to Sazh's transport for the briefing. Hope was certain to be there, but now he would find out about her mission the same way everyone else would. At least she could say she'd put every effort into giving him a head's up.

Maqui was tweaking the radio and speaker equipment when Lightning arrived at the site. Just about everyone in the camp had already made their way over, and they stood in clusters, talking anxiously about expectations and opinions on the brief to come. Snow was, for once, without his faithful pet and chatting loudly with Sazh – Lightning could hear him over every other voice in the vicinity. She wound her way over to them, intending to ask if they had seen Hope, but the question died in her throat when she sighted him herself, walking toward her from the medical transport with Serah.

_I was just there! How did I miss him?_

As he approached, Lightning could tell by the look on his face that Hope had already been informed – the combination of his forced smile and the way he instantly looked right at her screamed that he knew. Serah must have thought it best to pass it on, and she silently thanked her sister a second time.

"Hey, Light," he said casually, with a little wave. _Too __casual. __He__'__s __not __happy._ Hope smiled halfheartedly, but otherwise kept himself together.

"Hey." Lightning momentarily debated whether to bring up the mission, but he made the choice for her in the midst of her hesitation.

Hope cleared his throat. "So, you get to go solo this time," he said uneasily, "and undercover. Sounds… exciting."

"Don't really care if it's exciting, as long as we get results," Lightning replied. "Everything depends on this intel, and I refuse to let the team down."

He was noticeably conflicted, and she had a good idea why. Lightning understood the pain in accepting the risk of a possible loss in order to avoid a probable one. She could see that he wanted to protest, or suggest something alternative to the fact of the matter. It was simply not going to happen, and she would not let him even begin to hope in vain for it. Reassurance in success was all she could do.

Fumbling, Hope began to make the anticipated effort. "Light, I know you're getting prepped for the mission right now, but—"

"Stop," Lightning said sharply. She put a hand on his shoulder and looked him directly in the eyes, and the commotion of voices surrounding them was momentarily shut out. "You heard me, right? I _refuse_ to let the team down. More than that, I refuse to let _you_ down. It may be the middle of a vipers' nest, but we'll be in and out before they have a clue."

Hope still looked terribly anxious, and Lightning wondered what else she could possibly have said to improve things. He opened his mouth, but whatever he had intended to say at that point was lost as a loud burst of static from the radio blasted over the speakers and then cleared out to Nooj's voice testing his mic. Every head turned to the major.

"Test: one, two, three. Am I loud and clear?" he addressed to the group.

Lucil picked up the handheld transmitter to speak on everyone's behalf. She pressed the button and replied, "Loud and clear, Sir."

The next forty-five minutes were part typical update for the status of rebel forces in general, part working timeline for the first phase of the rescue operation, and part discussion of plans in the long term concerning viral remedy development. Lightning mostly zoned out for the first segment, paying closer attention to Hope's emotions and responses for signs of improvement, but she took in every possible detail of the latter two parts.

The rescue plan was simple enough – upon her return from the intel retrieval mission, they would pool every bit of information about the site ascertained to be holding the survivors – both their own findings and whatever could be gained from the confined PSICOM outpost unit – in order to formulate a strategy. Both primary and support strike teams were already assigned, and all members except several key personnel on the expeditionary team were running drills and stocking supplies back at the rebel base in preparation.

Regarding the viral remedy, Lightning was only able to get the gist. Baralai had obviously discussed technical details at length with Serah, and Lightning had little experience with all the medical jargon. As far as she could tell, lab experiments were already being run on interactions between the original antiviral treatment based on Serah's immunity and the new viral remedy based on the fungus. Inconclusive results from the last two days showed a tendency for the stronger treatment to eradicate effectiveness of the natural remedy. There were also concerns about the best method of administering the treatment – whether via shot or inhalation. Light considered that this must have been why Serah was so absorbed with the bizarre-looking syringe earlier.

Whatever the case, the major was already wrapping up the brief with final comments. "I expect a status update from Commander Vargus via check-in with his outpost, as well as a report from Sergeant Farron in three days. If there is no word within twenty-four hours of their scheduled arrival at Central, we will take emergency action as necessary to follow her last confirmed position and eliminate Commander Vargus as a hostile target. We have already informed him of the risks – he has enough idea of his escort's capabilities that I don't anticipate any setbacks. That said, commence the operation."

"Thank you, Sir," Lucil said over the transmitter. "Over and out." She motioned for Lightning to talk with her, and then called out over the rising murmur of voices, "Everyone, you are dismissed!"

The group dispersed, some soldiers beginning their assignments for patrol or site cleanup, others relieving the outpost watch. Lightning kept an eye on Hope's retreating form headed toward his own transport – his hands were in his pockets, and he didn't look back.

"Farron? Hey, mission control to Farron!" Lucil's voice startled her back to the task at hand, and she faced the sergeant, assuming her typical, coolly receptive posture.

"Yes," Lightning responded, hoping whatever she had to say would be short and to the point.

Lucil shook her head, chuckling. "Wow, you've got it bad," she said, and then quickly switched to a firm tone. "But I need your head in the game. Make sure to pack enough supplies for a week, and pick up the remedy from the medical transport and the PSICOM uniform from Gadot at the outpost before take-off at 1330. Don't be late, not that I expect that from you."

Lightning nodded, already turning to leave for her tent, but Lucil spoke up again before she had taken two steps.

"And one more thing," the sergeant began, noticeably quieter than usual, "Go give him a proper goodbye. You can spare the two minutes."

"But I don't—"

"No buts. Direct order," Lucil said with finality. Lightning could only blink in response, confounded by the serious face of her leader, but she followed the instruction and jogged off after Hope.

* * *

In the transport, Lightning was surprised to find the main cabin empty – no rucksack on the floor, the mechanical space panel secured, and everything uncharacteristically quiet. If Hope was inside, he wasn't working on anything.

"Hope?" she called out, lacking the time to spend searching cubbies of the ship.

A hand waved at the entrance to the cockpit. "Up front," he replied tersely.

Lightning climbed into the cockpit and took the co-pilot's seat for the second time ever. She felt awkward even being there – an official goodbye had never been in the works, not before Lucil had to interfere and pull positional rank. When Hope broke the silence, she was beyond grateful.

"Sorry to be an inconvenience," he said, voice a bit tight, "but there was something I needed to give you."

"Wait – what?" Lightning was at a loss. _He __expected __me. __Did __he __set __this __up?_

Hope smiled sadly. "I've known you were leaving all morning – Lucil had already passed down that information along with my own orders, and when I found out, I called in a favor." He picked up the rucksack from the floor, digging around for something.

"I thought you might try to play this off, not say goodbye – the usual soldier act," Hope continued, pulling out a simple, black box and dropping the rucksack. He set it down on the dash.

Nerves kicked in. Lightning was utterly terrified by the tiny box for a split-second, but recovered in a defensive reaction. "It's not an act. Soldiers have coping mechanisms, and more importantly, _deadlines_."

"I know what time you're going," he said softly. "Can I have a minute?" That look was absolutely heartbreaking – and more potent than any manner of begging. She barely registered that Hope had taken her hand.

The touch brought her back to reality. "I-I don't… Sure. It's just a minute," Lightning stammered, more in steadying her own resolve to not panic. _Battles __have __turned __in __a __minute._

Hope must have sensed her freaking out, because he laughed lightly as he opened the box and pulled out a solidly woven but distinctly feminine silver necklace from within. "You really shouldn't worry so much, Light. I _know_ you, and I'm not Snow's brand of crazy."

He turned her palm up and slowly dropped the pendant and chain into it. Turning over the stone, Lightning could see the glow of a tiny green light – something electronic was embedded in the metal backing.

"What is this?" she asked, fears already dissolved into curiosity.

"I know you can appreciate practicality," Hope explained, "and this has a use for the mission. It's still a prototype, a side-project Maqui originally cooked up, but based on our test runs, this tiny transmitter will send out a unique electronic signature to the tracking equipment in my ship. The system's Pulsian, so we didn't figure out that the onboard radar could be used for anything other than targeting until recently. And this week, we finally got a field test on the signal's range."

Everything suddenly made perfect sense. "So, you were ordered to track me," Lightning stated. "How long _is _the range?"

"Long enough. Yuj confirmed that it worked from the far end of the village at full strength without interference, so it's simple to extrapolate that it will reach across the plains to PSICOM Central," Hope answered, but he clearly wasn't satisfied with that level of uncertainty, and he added, "Even if we're wrong, the electronic trail would pinpoint your last in-range location for us, and we could fly to get close enough for further tracking."

Flipping the pendant back over to look at the iridescent stone, it dawned on Lightning that the necklace itself was not a creation of their project. "Hope, where did you get this?" she asked.

Instantly, the confidence that had accompanied his technology spiel died down, reduced to bashfulness. "Oh, right," he said nervously, hesitating. "I umm… I've had it since we went to my house in Palumpolum. Just wanted to hold onto something of Mom's… save it as a reminder."

"Hope, I can't – I mean I shouldn't take this, definitely not into battle. Couldn't you put the transmitter in something else? If it was damaged—"

"It's okay," he interrupted. "You always protect the things you value, so I'm not worried, Light. Besides," he added, looking down at her hand as he spoke, "if anyone got close enough to damage the necklace, I would have lost something more precious. I'm trusting that you won't let that happen."

Lightning was absolutely floored. She had seen this before, with Snow and with Fang – faith in someone that defied any uncertainty. It rendered her speechless for several seconds, and when she finally did find her voice, it was pathetically small.

"I won't." The gravity of the mission wasn't even the prominent factor behind her fear; it was the weight of his trust. A frightening, but strangely comforting feeling came with that realisation. Lightning dangled the pendant in front of her by its chain.

"Here," she said, and Hope looked wounded, already prepared to refuse taking it back. She didn't give him the chance. "Put it on me."

"Oh." Once the surprise wore off, he took the chain from her, smiling boyishly before squinting in concentration to undo the clasp. Hope got up and moved to stand between the seats; Lightning turned away, and he slipped the chain around her neck and fastened it.

Lifting her hair over the chain, she looked down at the pendant and felt its weight. "Hope," she said, facing him again, "Thank you, but you know I have to hide this for protection. Not because I _want _to." Lightning slid the necklace inside her shirt, and then stood to leave. As much as she was glad to have taken time out for him, that time was up.

"I understand; just be sure to let it get sun exposure every couple of days. Can't let the power cell die," he said, still holding an unresolved look in his eyes. "I'll be watching you on the tracker, so don't ever take it off."

Lightning had already stepped out of the cockpit. "Of course." Leaving was painful, like tearing against invisible hooks in her chest.

"Stay safe and be alert – I'm sure you can make it three days," she said on the way across the main cabin, but she heard Hope's footsteps close behind. He caught up and touched her arm.

"Light, wait, I still didn't tell you—"

_Please don't say goodbye. _

Lucil's demand came to mind, but Lightning couldn't see there being such a thing as a proper goodbye – they all hurt. There was no good way to say it.

Unless nothing was _said_.

Flying in the face of restraint, she did a complete one-eighty, grabbed the flimsy t-shirt fabric and pulled Hope down to meet her mouth before he had a chance to utter the detestable word. He caught on quickly – any shock-induced tension vanished and he offered no resistance, picking up right where he had left off before. Lightning's grip slackened on the shirt, and somehow her hands wound up in his hair, but those details fell by the wayside in the midst of taking in the taste and feel of his lips.

When Hope wrapped his arms around her, bringing her flush against him, the soldier surprised herself by shifting up a gear rather than down – something in her nature felt challenged to win an unannounced contest. The knot forming in her stomach tightened as she kissed him more deeply, getting a better taste and gaining determination, but when that action brought on an audible hum from the back of Hope's throat, she was completely unnerved. Lightning pulled out and away, shamelessly blushing and sucking in a breath.

Still keeping a loose grip around her, Hope was in worse shape. His eyes held an unsettling blend of passion and pain. Embarrassed that she was to blame on both accounts, Lightning averted her gaze to his chest and tried to remember what had been her original intent.

_A more comforting goodbye…right._

She moved to gently detach his arms from her, but Hope let them fall first. He reached out and lifted her chin – she couldn't look away.

"Three days," he said, voice lowered in both volume and register. "That's all I'm waiting – any longer and I'll come find you." Lightning shivered involuntarily. She knew he meant it with concern, but it sounded like more.

Vocal chords refusing to work, Lightning managed a nod before turning to leave. She all but sprinted out of the transport.

_At __this __speed, __I__'__ll __be _early _for __departure._

* * *

Hope hadn't told her.

Perhaps it was for the best – if she knew, it could have been a mission-debilitating distraction. Not that he thought Lightning couldn't handle the truth, and certainly not because she didn't deserve to know, but the words were impossible to utter.

He was relapsing_._

Everything added up, and the signs were undeniable; since the interrogation, even without the impetus of dehydration or sleep deprivation, his vision would occasionally lose focus for short periods of time, often accompanied by headaches that could not be alleviated with any type or amount of medicine. The most nerve-wracking part, and the reason he'd originally wanted to tell Lightning before she left, was the uncertainty of when the virus' proliferation would reach a critical state. It could be weeks, days… hours.

He thought about asking Serah for help on multiple occasions, but she was in the throes of research, and alerting her or anyone else to his condition could only slow their progress on the enhanced remedy and remove him from an active role in the operation. Neither would be beneficial.

_I won't let it come to that._

Which was why, on the second evening after Lightning's departure, he squatted patiently inside a mechanical compartment of the medical transport's underbelly, waiting for dinner call to summon Serah and the research staff away. Two days' worth of inquiries were about to yield results – that morning, Serah had proudly gushed about finally completing the first batch of mist-administered remedy, the village apothecary's formula. It would be a far cry from a real cure, but what little effect it might have was his only option for buying time.

On cue, precisely at 2000, Lucil announced chow to the camp with her megaphone. Hope listened to the retreating steps of Serah and every other member of the research team before he carefully cracked open the interior panel to peer inside the ship. The coast was clear, and he stood up completely, knees popping from the strain of being bent for nearly an hour after finishing the 'repairs' that had afforded access to his hiding place.

It took less than thirty seconds for him to spot the item of interest. Several intranasal syringes lay in a neat row on the folding table in the middle of the cabin, and he quickly snatched one and pocketed it before reentering the mechanic's space and then climbing out of the ship's forward hull. Slinking along the dark edge of the clearing, he made his way back to his own transport and casually walked up the ramp.

"Maqui, go get chow!" he called toward the cockpit, and his friend's shock of blonde hair popped into view moments later.

"_Finally_," the eccentric mechanic replied in exasperation, sluggishly dragging himself out of the cockpit entrance. "Thought you were faster than that on a routine wiring repair."

Hope didn't even react to the teasing criticism. "Rough day. Is Light still on track?"

"Same spot for the last fifteen minutes," Maqui said, bored. "My guess is they're having dinner at Central too, so expect movement any time now." He jogged past Hope and down the exit ramp. "See ya!"

Hope returned to the cockpit and collapsed into the pilot's seat, watching the blinking red dot on the tracking console. Had the screen not been divided into grids within grids of tiny quadrants, the miniscule movements of Lightning's signal would have been undetectable. Following intently, he could tell that it had just moved from one of the innermost, half-centimeter wide squares onto the intersection between that and three other squares. He made a note of the coordinates in the logbook – based on the reference map correlated with the grid, Lightning was within the facility, probably settling down for the night.

Hope pulled the syringe from his pocket and took a deep breath, then exhaled.

_It's better that she doesn't know about this. Sleep well, Light._

He removed the cap from the needle and popped off the plastic safety stopper from around the plunger.

"Here goes nothing," he muttered to himself, and then injected the spray into each nostril in turn. It would be hours before any effects were evident, and he needed rest himself, if only to be presentable for Lightning's return the next evening. The flashing point on the display continued to blink, steady and reassuring. He stared at the light until it lulled him to sleep.

* * *

Morning came crashing in with unprecedented force. Hope awoke to a ship-jarring thud followed by the sound of claws on glass. Squinting in the sharply contrasted glow of the dash controls, he found himself face to face with Snuggles through the window of the cockpit. The sun was not yet up.

"Snow, you are _so _going to get it!" he yelled in frustration.

Despite the jarring wake-up call and clinging fatigue, Hope was pleased to find that his vision was clear, and there was no hint of a headache. That hadn't been the case for nearly a week. He wondered how long the remedy would be effective – with a little luck, it could outlast the rescue operation.

Stretching and sitting up straight, he checked the console readout. The signal had barely moved, likely just the change from wherever the barracks had been to the docking area for departure. He compared the location to the originally logged arrival coordinates for the dock – they didn't match. It was early though, so it could be a bathroom, or the chow hall, or one of many in between points.

Hope looked at his watch. They still had a six hour window in which to leave before raising an alarm. If Lightning and the commander had not taken off by noon, Lucil had to know, and Nooj would be alerted to put an emergency force on standby for one additional hour before enacting the contingency plan.

"Hey, Hope!" Snow shouted from the transport entrance, and Hope stood, groaning from the soreness of sleeping upright, and left the cockpit.

Snow was leaning against the bulkhead next to the ramp. "Lose your pet?" Hope asked, adopting a sarcastic tone to cover his grumpy disposition.

"Oh yeah, sorry 'bout that – I actually came here on a task, but Snuggles decided to announce my arrival!" He laughed boisterously, ever the morning person.

Hope did a face-palm. "Ugh, it's not even six, Snow. I prefer an alarm clock."

"Good morning to you, too," Snow said, the frivolity dying down. He crossed the cabin and shook Hope's shoulder. "Now go get breakfast, or I will throw you out of this transport."

"Too early to eat," Hope grumbled, running a hand through his destroyed hair.

Snow was unmoved. "Go shower, then – you've got to get out of your little portable bunker! I'll watch the tracker for you."

It was also too early to fight back. "Fine," Hope muttered, heading across the cabin and down the ramp.

"And don't come back before eight, or I'll tell Serah what _I_ think happened with you and her sister!" Snow yelled after him.

_Like __she__'__d __believe __whatever __his __mind__'__s __cooked __up_. He called back, "Please do – it'll make her day!" and then took off for a quick jog before hitting the showers. Early rising sucked, but it had its benefits.

* * *

Two hours later, Hope stood at the top of the transport ramp – clean, fed, and impatient.

"It's 0801 Snow, and Snuggles is getting antsy," he announced upon entering. But when Snow emerged from the cockpit, instead of the usual smirk that preceded his next joking comment, he wore a rare look of concern. Hope was set on edge.

"Hey," Snow began, "you need to see something."

Hope ran, squeezing past him into the cockpit and taking the pilot's seat. Looking at the tracker readout, a problem wasn't immediately apparent, but when he checked the logbook and compared the last coordinates with the position on-screen, trouble emerged. And the flashing dot was still moving.

Along a steady course in the wrong direction.

"Snow, when did this start? Why didn't you get me?" Hope asked frantically, hurriedly scribbling a note in the log about the deviation.

Snow went on the defensive. "I noticed it at around 0745, but it's not necessarily a reason to freak out. And you _know_ why I didn't get you – the tracker isn't supposed to be unmanned for more than a couple of minutes!"

"Right, sorry," Hope stuttered, and then fumbled and dropped the pen onto the floor. He leaned over and held his head in his hands, taking a few deep breaths. He distantly noticed Snow squeeze by and sit down in the co-pilot's seat.

"This is bad, Snow. It feels like something's gone wrong."

Snow was silent for a few seconds. Then he cautiously replied, "Wrong enough to go ahead and tell Lucil?"

Hope thought it over. A premature strike, if nothing turned out to be amiss, could spell even greater danger for Lightning and the commander, blowing their cover and needlessly putting soldiers in harm's way. A delay, however, could mean death, or at least imprisonment.

"Yes – let her know," he said mechanically. "She'll pass it on to Nooj to make the call. Light would trust his decision as a superior, and so will I."

A mission in the works, Snow stood to his feet. "I'm on it!" He was back in the main cabin and making the radio call before Hope could even try to thank him. Distantly, he heard Snuggles screeching outside, and Snow exited the transport to tend to the wyvern once the conversation ended.

Staring a hole in the screen as he continued to monitor the flashing signal's movement, Hope lost all track of time. After two whole days of on-time check-ins from Vargus and a seemingly smooth process on the mission, he had been mostly at ease, which made the change overwhelming. He could feel panic rising, turning his insides into a pressure cooker that fast approached the critical boiling point with every disastrous scenario that entered his mind.

_Were they found out? Did Vargus turn traitor and hand Light over? Are they already dead and I'm just seeing the movement of a body? Or was the tracker attached to a passing monster to throw us off?_

Sharp rapping against the metal side of the cockpit entrance made Hope jerk up from his intense concentration.

He turned his head and saw Lucil staring at him anxiously.

Stepping closer, she squinted to examine the screen but immediately turned back to him. Hope knew the fact that he was losing it had not escaped her.

"Breathe," Lucil commanded, and Hope inhaled, but she was still dissatisfied. "That means _keep_ breathing."

He exhaled and tried to focus on holding a steady rhythm to avoid hyperventilation.

Several seconds later, once she seemed satisfied that Hope had averted a panic attack, the sergeant looked back at the screen. "Now explain this. And calmly."

Hope firmly got his bearings and took a minute to go over the facts, pointing out the coordinates along their intended course for return, and then tracing along the actual path of travel from the time of deviation with his finger.

"And it's still moving?" Lucil asked, once he had finished.

Hope took another steadying breath. "Yes. I'm keeping a log of every crossed coordinate."

"If that's the case," the sergeant said conclusively, "we can't take reactive measures yet – not until their location has stabilized."

"But what if they're en route to some location we can't even access? Shouldn't we catch them before it's too late?" He didn't mean to sound defensive, but the fear was threatening to rise back up and choke him.

Lucil sighed, reasoning with him. "Look, Hope. We're talking about coordinating an invasion force that would have to fly within line-of-sight range of PSICOM Central. _Any _action we dare to take in that area requires precision and timing. Moving targets are a no go. Am I clear?"

_Yeah, clear as the icicle lodged in my chest._

Hope leaned back in the chair and covered his face, growling with frustration. There was no sense arguing with the facts.

"Clear," he said, the soft reply further diminished by his hands.

She ruffled his hair. "Don't beat yourself up about this, Hope," Lucil said, leaning back against the narrow entryway. "I'm still going to pass this on to the major, and that'll speed up our response time once you've got a fixed location. Be patient, and keep watching."

His hands dropped to his lap, useless. "Seems like all you soldiers ask me to do is watch and wait! Isn't it _ever_ the right time to act on instinct?" Hope asked, something like desperation creeping in with the question.

Fleeting but thinly disguised pain passed over Lucil's features. "There are plenty of times to act on instinct, but believe me, instincts and _feelings_ are not the same, and that's what you really mean. Feelings lead to rash decisions, resulting in devastating consequences," she said blankly. "It's 'How to be a Soldier' 101."

Even in the middle of his own personal crisis, Hope could tell that something was up. "Lucil, what's wrong? You don't sound like… yourself. And I doubt it's because of this," he said, gesturing at the screen.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean? You think I don't care what happens to one of my subordinates? I can _have_ feelings without acting on them!" At least there was some emotion – even if it was anger.

"No!" Hope quickly corrected. "But you seemed _hurt_ just now. That doesn't really fit Light's situation."

The sergeant must have hit some invisible breaking point, because she didn't even try to hold back the flood of reaction. "You really want to know how I _feel_? Like an idiot! Like I've done all the wrong things and set you up for _another_ big crisis. There were a million ways I could've stopped the events leading up to now – just simple decisions to keep Farron out of harm's way, maybe even off this whole mission. I have the authority! At the very _least_, I could've backed off on encouraging your relationship." She stopped to take a breath, flushed with frustration that was dying down to regret.

"I've had to watch you die slowly from the inside out for the last five years, and I can already see you falling apart when you _think_ about anything happening to her! I _hate_ what it does to you, Hope."

He had always thought that Lucil would never, _ever _cry, but at that moment she wasn't quite covering the urge to do so.

She hurriedly built her defenses back up, taking a deep breath. "So there – _that__'__s_ how I feel. You won't be hearing it twice."

Hope was baffled. He had no idea what to say. In all the time that he'd known the sergeant, she never once mentioned a particular interest in him – she had been there literally from day one of his struggle with PSICOM and was always friendly, maybe a bit protective at times, but nothing stood out. At least not until now. It hit him that he had never given thought to the narrow, three-year age gap.

_Maybe Light didn't seem like a serious factor before._

"Lucil, I'm sorry if—"

"No," she cut in. "_Believe_ me, it's nothing you caused. I'd have to be blind to not see that you're in love with Lightning Farron, and have been since I met you." Lucil smiled ruefully. The mention of _that_ word made Hope's insides twist up, and it must have shown, because the sergeant shook her head at his expression.

"But I never said I was—"

"'But' nothing. I'm not finished," she scolded. "I had serious doubts as to whether this Sergeant Farron was actually what you and everyone else _said _she was – some kind of legend among women. And I've gotta say, even with her bad attitude and mood swings, she's every bit as beautiful and talented as I heard. More importantly, I'd known her a whole five minutes and I could tell she would make you happy. That she _wanted_ to. As long as she could keep her crazy self alive to do it, anyway."

Hope let that one sink in. "So, you're not… upset with me, or with Light, at all?"

"Heh, just angry with myself, and this mess of a situation," Lucil admitted, recovering her usual determination, "and I'll personally do everything in my power to keep this from turning into a disaster. You're a special person, Hope, and Farron is a far better soldier than me, even if I've got a year of experience on her. We can't afford to lose either of you."

"Thanks, Lucil." Guilt still pulled at him, whether or not he was even at fault. "We really can't afford to lose _anyone_ on the team, and I know you've got that to consider."

"No need to thank me," she replied, shaking her head. "It was selfish of me to even bring up so much crap, but you had better remember this one point: that _other_ people care about you. Lots of them. No matter what happens on this mission, life goes on and so does this resistance, so don't you _dare_ shut out the world again. That's an order. Understood?"

_Sure. I really hope life goes on, for all of us._

"Understood," Hope responded. He couldn't help but take the message to heart – Lightning was only one of many who would be affected by his decisions or failures, unfortunately. Still, it was what it was; worrying was useless. He had to focus on the _now_.

Hope offered a smile to Lucil, relieved that she was back to just being his superior, and she returned the gesture – it was small, but genuine. Turning to the tracker, he made a note of the change of coordinates and prepared to enter the next set.

Which never came. The signal flashed weakly, and then it faded out.

"It's _gone_!" he exclaimed, hurriedly grabbing the source map from its compartment to reference the location. "Here – in this uncharted space to the northwest of Central, it just dropped out. They've either gone out of range or underground."

Rapidly pulling out a notebook, Lucil looked over his shoulder at the map, and then wrote down the coordinates and the information. "Got it. This is undeniably trouble, so if anything changes, just radio me on the emergency frequency – channel nine. I'm off to give the major a call!" She pocketed the notebook and darted out, red hair flying.

"Thanks!" Hope yelled after her. _Maybe __we __can __still __get __Light __back __tonight._

* * *

He diligently watched the screen for another hour, but the signal did not reemerge. It was almost eleven when word finally came back from Nooj about their course of action – he had clearly deliberated thoroughly with the staff.

Lucil disseminated the orders, and soldiers passed the word all over the camp, radio to radio or face to face, making the clearing come alive with the sounds of voices, boots, and shuffling supplies. It was full-on battle stations. Once Hope had finished preparations and safety checks on the transport for take-off, the original fifteen-man squad – minus Lightning, and with Snow taking Yuj's position – was packed and ready to board. Every last soldier was disguised in PSICOM uniforms, courtesy of the outpost detainees.

Looking up the field to Sazh's transport, Hope saw a mirror image with the second squad. The older man jogged over to him, shaking his head in disbelief.

"What's the problem?" Hope asked immediately.

"Oh, just never thought I'd be flyin' backup for a nineteen-year-old!" Sazh chuckled.

Hope huffed in protest. "Almost _twenty_, or did you forget your favorite protégé's birthday?"

"You're nineteen till I say otherwise. Just make sure not to fly too far west, or that magnetic field'll scramble communications – but I'm sure you knew that."

Hope smiled. "I learned from the best. With a little luck, we won't _need_ backup. It would save everyone a lot of time and trouble if the rescue team didn't have to be rescued!"

Sazh just laughed and dumped a full PSICOM uniform, complete with assault rifle, into Hope's arms, waving as he walked back to the other transport.

* * *

Take-off went smoothly, as did the first half of the trip. Maqui kept an eye on the controls and the tracker from the cockpit while Hope stood in on the sergeant's in-flight scenario brief, but his effort was in vain. The signal still had not come back in range. At the midpoint, Hope took back over and continued on the westerly-arcing course toward the last known coordinates of Lightning's tracking device, while Sazh landed his transport among the rocky outcroppings of an established rebel way-point – near enough to stand by for transmissions from Hope, but far enough out that PSICOM patrols would not be alerted to an additional presence.

The second half of the trip was tricky. Hope shifted out of auto-pilot and manually followed course, activating the transport's reflective cloaking. It was only effective in bright sunlight, but even with the weather on their side, it drained more energy than it was worth if used for more than an hour. That gave him just enough time to navigate through the critical period.

And navigate he did – smoothly skimming around the flank of a giant adamantoise, underneath a near head-on collision with two fighting svarogs, and just out of range of a PSICOM communications post.

"Hope, we need to go east – we'll be on the reference point in less than ten kilometers that direction," Maqui advised.

"Done." Hope adjusted the course, and a distinct pillar of white smoke came into his line of sight. Had it not been for the sharply east-bound angle of approach, he wouldn't have even noticed it, but the rising column floated out of a sparsely wooded depression in the ground against the sloping backdrop of the settlement's structures and surrounding trees. Whatever it was, there was no visible fire involved.

Maqui looked puzzled, glancing back and forth from the console to the smoke, and then getting suddenly excited. "Hope, Hope! The signal's back! And I think it's coming from the other side of _that_." He pointed straight ahead.

Once they closed the distance, Hope landed the transport, carefully and quietly as possible, among some scattered boulders and a collection of larger trees just to the north of the smoke. He was thankful to have any decent cover at all. Powering down the ship's engines and maintaining only the battery charge to run the tracker, Hope sat back and took a deep breath. The air held a mildly sulfurous tang.

He shouted back into the main cabin, "Sergeant, the signal's coming from a column of smoke about five hundred meters right."

"Alright, let's get this show on the road!" Lucil said enthusiastically. "You, Biggs – use the rear sights to get a closer look at the whole area. I smell a mining operation."

"Roger!" His boots pounded off to the back of the ship.

_That would explain the sulfur._

Then she yelled toward the cockpit, "Maqui, front sights! We need to get another perspective."

"Everyone else, get ready to hit the dirt!"

Using the sights, the team was able to determine the best path of approach – there appeared to be a cleverly disguised ladder-well entry near a slender, and nearly invisible, antenna rising from among the scrubby trees to the far left of the smoke. One lone sentry was spotted at the front of the small mound of earth and brush, which otherwise would not have seemed like anything special. Whatever lay beneath had to be significant enough to merit a good deal of deception.

It was a slow and painful process crawling, ducking, and winding over to the sentry, but Lucil led the team along what had to be the safest route. The likelihood that more PSICOM forces might be posted nearby and observing from a distance was high, and they needed to emerge from a better position.

The sergeant handed off the second of their only two extended range transceivers to Snow, leaving him with one third of the group in the cover of trees to stand by, should the leading team require immediate outside assistance. Hope felt fortunate to be with Lucil's group – he could _do _something for once.

It was time to set everything in motion. Rushing out of the trees from behind the posted sentry, Lucil got the man's attention.

"Hey! Comrade, we could use some assistance!" she called out.

The sentry was caught completely off-guard, nearly dropping his assault rifle. "What? Who are you, and why are you out here without an escort?"

"I _am_ the escort! Got a trouble call on site for a medic, but the velocycle malfunctioned and I think he's broken his leg. Please, help me get him inside the facility before _two_ people end up in a lot of pain." Not surprisingly, Lucil was good.

"I really shouldn't…" he began, looking back and forth from the entrance to the disguised sergeant, "but since it's an emergency, I can make an exception. Take me to him."

That was the ticket. As soon as the unsuspecting sentry entered the trees, the rest of Lucil's team ambushed, disarmed, and bound him, leaving him with Snow and the backup after confiscating his radio, keycard and identification.

Lucil called Maqui on her transceiver. "Now, Maqui. Get us a minute of coverage if you can manage that long."

"Roger," came the static-laden reply. Hope knew that the most they could reasonably expect was forty-five seconds, if that, with the 'Propaganda Cluster Bomb' Maqui was about to unleash on PSICOM's radio equipment before he would have to shut down the ship's transmitter in order to prevent tracing to the source. Still, it would be enough to distract radio ops within a twenty kilometer radius; they were going to think it was the beginning of the second War of Transgression for one terrifying minute.

The instant a blasphemous symphony of voices and catastrophic sounds began buzzing over Lucil's transceiver, she signaled the team and took off running from the trees to the now-confirmed entrance. One soldier took the post outside as a stand-in for the original sentry, and after Lucil had unlocked the door, she shut off her transceiver and the team filed in as quickly and silently as possible.

Inside, it was a sight to behold. Hope found himself separated from a hundred meter drop by a single metal rail on the landing. They stood near the ceiling of a cavernous space cluttered with extraction machinery and encircled by a metal, spiraling walkway which began at the entrance and passed by a myriad of crude openings in the walls. Lucil had been right – this was clearly a mine. It looked like a massive, inverted honeycomb. Dim, electric lamps dotted the metal path, and varying amounts of light issued from some of the small tunnel openings to betray their depths into the walls. At the bottom, indistinguishable figures sluggishly moved here and there to run the equipment or carry loads of retrieved deposits.

Looking down, Hope felt a momentary wave of dizziness. He backed off and steadied himself on the rail, saw that Lucil and the others were already beginning the descent along the walkway, and quickly caught up.

On the next landing, Lucil rapidly shouted her final instructions over the roar of machinery. "They'll probably pick up any transmissions between our radios, so I don't want to hear _anything_ but callwords: 'Blue' if you come in contact with Sergeant Farron, 'Green' for Vargus, 'Yellow' for possible exposure, and 'Red' for an absolute disaster – and I mean 'get the hell out _now_,' full-scale retreat disastrous. Ideally, I want to hear a Blue _and_ Green before a Red, but just Blue before Red is acceptable. As always, White is mission accomplished – your cue to exit the mine. Keep a low profile and blend with the guards; we're posing as watch relief, so be convincing and try to get as many PSICOM workers to leave the area as you can. Only engage the enemy in secluded areas, as a _last _ resort. Radios up, and good luck."

The ten-man team switched on their transceivers and spread out to independently follow the walkway, entering some of the most promising tunnels in search of both friendly and hostile targets. It was a lot of ground to cover for so few people. Hope ducked into an opening about halfway down, which at first seemed darker than several of the other tunnels, but once inside, he saw that the lamps were simply placed farther along the path within. At the first fork, he made a left, took the next available right and made still another left, using stray tools and crates as landmarks to guide his exploration. It wasn't until he rounded the corner into a suspiciously well-lit opening on the right that he found anyone.

A mine-worker in dusty, ragged clothes came shuffling out with a cart full of yellowish rock and bumped right into Hope. Startled, he dropped the cart's handles and cowered back.

"Oh I'm sorry, so sorry sir, I didn't see you there – I'll get this load out of the way so you can keep going, just please—"

"Whoa, wait a minute," Hope said to the terrified man, setting the assault rifle on the ground as a calming gesture. "It's my first time on shift here, and I've gotten lost. Could you tell me if any new workers are stationed in this area?"

He hesitated, but seemed to lose some of the initial tension. "S-sure, and you're actually not that lost. I can take you to them myself."

'_Them,' huh. Lucky break if they're still together._

Hope was relieved; success could be easier that he thought. "Thanks," he said, carefully picking up his weapon. "Lead the way."

They wound deeper into the maze, the smell of sulfur getting gradually more overwhelming with every new passage. One tunnel in particular must have contained trace amounts of noxious sulfur oxide gas, because the mine worker held his breath through the length of that section. Hope followed suit, but lost his air at the very end and felt a momentary choking sensation just before exiting the passage.

As winded as that made him feel, it could not compare to the punch in the gut he received the instant he stepped into the next tunnel. It took a moment for Hope to note that a PSICOM guard was the culprit, but by that time he had been tripped and straddled on the ground, assault rifle lying uselessly across the path. The arm pressed across his throat constricted his breathing with surprising force, and he struggled to pull it away, thrashing in vain against the enemy.

"Don't be so feisty," said the attacker, and Hope felt momentary confusion at hearing a female behind the weight against his neck and body, but his attention was quickly diverted as she lessened the chokehold to shift position and dig a shin into his groin. Windpipe no longer blocked, he yelped in pain.

"Hand over your keycard and I'll only knock you out. No reason to die."

Just like that, clarity broke through Hope's light-headedness – he knew that voice. And, in a formerly more _in_direct way, he knew that strength.

"Light, please," he choked, straining against the pressure, "_Stop_! It's me."

She instantly sprang up and scrambled back into a defensive crouch, and Hope was overjoyed to be free. When he sat up, stars still swam across his vision.

"Hope?" Lightning asked, her mystified expression coming into view once she had jerked off the helmet. "Why are you— what are you _doing _here?"

He removed his own stifling helmet, swiping a hand across his forehead. "Tracking your signal. I told you we'd get in range." The mission popped back to the forefront of his mind.

_I've got to radio Blue._

* * *

Endnote: My Beta drooled over this chapter, and insisted that I include her own rendition of the ending (_somebody__'__s_ got a one-track mind):

Chapter 15: Alternate Ending (ie, Why Hthar's Beta Is Not Good At Dramatic Storytelling)

**Light**: [attacks!]  
**Hope**: [in pain] Holy crap! Light, it's me! Also, sidenote, ow.  
**Light**: Oh, hey. [casually knocks out some random PSICOM dude for no other reason than to be awesome]  
**Hope**: Yeeeeah. We were coming to, uh, "rescue" you, but I see you've already gotten started on that. Kind of make us being here pointless, I know, but thanks for attacking me and all.  
**Light**: Right, my bad. Make it up to you with hot makeouts?  
**Hope**: ...Light, we're in the middle of an underground PSICOM base.  
**Light**: ...  
**Hope**: ...  
**Light**: ...how is that relevant?  
**Hope**: Yeah, you're right, it's not. Let's get with the makeouts.  
[AND THE STORY ENDS IN PORN THE END]

Hthar: Seriously, she's standing behind me right now, clapping and exclaiming, "POORRRRNNNN!"


	16. Car Crash Nightmare

A/N: Yeah, so I know I said the update would be a long time coming, but let's just say that plans were changed _for _me :P YAY! Here's the chapter I've known I would write since plotting this fic. Hope it turned out as awesome as it was supposed to, and I'll know yea or nay if everyone REVIEWS! I love reviews :D Oh and I have one fun tidbit of knowledge before we begin:

*In sulfur mines around volcanoes in some countries, workers are forced to go into the steaming volcanic fallout zone on foot to gather and carry chunks of sulfur by hand in buckets, breathing in toxic gases and ash. I made a loose reference here.

Disclaimer: Square Enix owns all of this. They may be pleased that I'm almost done screwing around with their characters.

(revised 30SEP11)

Car Crash Nightmare

Of all the things Lightning would never have expected to meet in an enemy mine, Hope in a PSICOM uniform was the most ridiculous.

_Better __not __have _injured _him._

Lightning stood, offering a hand to help him up. "For some reason I pictured you tracking me from a _safe_ distance. Isn't this a little too 'in range'?"

"Maybe, considering your strategically-placed _shin _has now passed electrocution on my top-ten list of most painful experiences." He still groaned a bit as he took hold of her hand and got to his feet, sounding uncomfortable at the change of position.

"Sorry about that – just instinctive reaction," she said quietly. "And you shouldn't be here. I've got things under control."

"Obviously," Hope muttered, and then stepped back at her answering glare. Pulling out a transceiver, he pressed the PTT button and said a clear, sharp, "Blue, Blue," over the airwaves.

She could infer the situation from his action.

_Great. An entire team in imminent danger._

"We need to move," Lightning said quickly, pulling him toward the passage she had come from, but Hope wouldn't budge, and she turned to see what had arrested his attention. The mine worker who had obliviously passed by before she attacked was ducking in the shadows next to his cart, wide-eyed with fear and confusion.

Hope spoke calmly to the man. "Hey, we're not going to hurt you," he began, "and I appreciate you helping me find my friend—"

"But you're coming with us," Lightning interrupted, finishing his sentence.

"What? He's _terrified_ of you. And frankly, I can't say I blame him," Hope protested.

Huffing in frustration, Lightning shoved past Hope and towered in front of the trembling worker. "You've got two choices: follow us or die. Nothing personal, but we can't have anyone giving us away."

The man just nodded nervously, shakily getting to his feet and darting around her to stand behind Hope.

"Smart choice," Lightning said, passing the two of them and striding down the tunnel with purpose.

Hope was soon on her heels, and he muttered in annoyance, "Was that really necessary?"

"Yes. Keep an eye on him." She focused on backtracking to safer, familiar territory to formulate a new plan, vaguely hearing Hope's conversation with the miner in the background.

"Shouldn't there have been another new worker in this area? You said you were taking me to _them_," Hope inquired.

Cautiously, the man explained. "_She_ isn't a new worker – not sure who she is, and I'm afraid to find out," he said with a shudder. Hope chuckled, and Lightning almost threw an elbow behind her for good measure.

But the worker wasn't finished, and he added helpfully, "I thought you meant new _prisoners_ brought to work here. We didn't get far enough to reach them."

The information tweaked Lightning's senses, and she stopped abruptly, turning to face the men at her back. Hope nearly walked into her, but she held him off with a hand. The worker instantly ducked out of sight.

"Where are these prisoners?" she asked, feeling Hope's heartbeat pounding under the uniform as she looked around him to direct the question at the miner, and he warily stepped into view.

Gulping, he replied, "Th-they're back that way. Where we came from. Is th-that where you want to go?"

"Maybe. Tell me about them – how many there are, when they got here, anything you know," she demanded. "And make it quick."

"O-okay," the miner stuttered. "I think – I'm pretty sure, a-anyway – that there are twenty or so of them. And they got here yesterday. The-the guards were talking about being annoyed by so many transfers at once, s-so I think they all came from the same place. That's all I know, I swear."

Lightning considered the information. All in all, it lined up with what Vargus had uncovered about the prisoner shift schedules concerning Hope's father and his fellow survivors – that they were about to be moved for labor imprisonment the next day, to an undisclosed location. He had found that out just before he'd been caught poking around in the classified files. Now, PSICOM didn't trust the remedy the commander had presented, and had expelled them both to the mine. Vargus was locked up in a cell along the tunnel, and thanks to a sketchy climb out of the mine shaft she'd been dumped into directly afterward, Lightning had spent the last few hours searching the labyrinthine passages for a guard with an access keycard in order to return and free the man.

As thrilled as she was to have found Hope, he wouldn't have a keycard. If anyone among the friendly forces _did_, it would be Lucil. That still left the matter of tracking down what she now felt certain were highly important prisoners, and it meant only one thing to her strategic mind – yet another separation. From the questioning way Hope looked at her, likely making connections from her sudden interest and the miner's words, it would not be easy.

"Hope," she said, making direct eye contact. "Does Lucil have an access keycard?"

He seemed confused. "Yes, from the sentry outside. Why?"

"The commander is here, in a locked cell," Lightning replied. "Now listen to me, and please don't argue." Hope looked concerned, but nodded, and she continued. "I need you to backtrack to the main exit from this tunnel and find Lucil. If I know her, she will be waiting out in the open walkway area by now after finding nothing. Vargus is being held near the end of this passage, so take her there and get him out. Rendezvous back here." She took out a knife and stabbed it into a crack in the wall. "I'm going to find these prisoners."

Surprised, and protesting despite his agreement _not_ to, Hope blurted, "Wait – Vargus isn't _with_ these prisoners? Then you think they're the crash survivors, _don__'__t_ you? Dad might be in there! Shouldn't _I_ go after him?"

_I was afraid of this. Too smart for his own good._

Lightning sighed. "Explanations waste time, which is running out. But since you insist on asking, _no_, because _you_ know the way out of this tunnel – more importantly, the prisoners will have guards, and I'll have to deal with them _my_ way. There's no other efficient plan, and I can't wait around for you to get back. We need every minute we can spare."

Reason must have made a breakthrough. Despite an obvious emotional struggle playing across his features, Hope conceded. "Fair enough. I know you're his best chance – _anyone__'__s_ best chance – to get out of this. Not that I doubt you, but please…stay safe." He smiled to mask the concern, coaxing her chin upward with a hand, and then leaned in to press a brief, gentle kiss to her lips.

"Bye, Light," he said as he stepped away to replace the helmet before jogging back the way they had come.

For a moment, she stood silent, eyes following down the passage after Hope. Lightning still refused to say goodbye. When she noticed the mine worker staring in disbelief, she blushed and immediately put her helmet back on.

"Right," Lightning said, clearing her throat to force a commanding tone. "Take me to the prisoners."

The man simply turned and started walking, surprise still written all over his face.

_Has he never heard of 'kiss and make up'? Seriously._

* * *

As they went further along the passage, the sulfurous fumes seemed almost tangible in the air. Lightning could have sworn the glow of the lamps became increasingly more yellow – somewhere in the back of her mind, it made her question how Hope could be so attracted to the color, considering its connection to an element that smelled like rotten eggs and its classic association with sickness. It was almost ironic.

After taking the third right turn, she wondered whether the miner was just going to lead her in a circle, but the passage they had entered abruptly made a sharp twist to the left, continuing downward in a winding manner for several hundred meters before leveling out. There was no telling how deep into the ground they had travelled. It was suffocating to think about.

"Are we getting close?" Lightning finally asked, and the worker replied with a nod.

That wasn't going to be the extent of their conversation.

She decided to do some digging for information along the trek. "So, why is PSICOM mining for sulfur? Seems like a major operation for an element with such ordinary uses, and they wouldn't need mass amounts for gunpowder or fertilizer."

The man looked confused by her attempt to talk with him, but he risked a reply. "You don't know? Guess you really aren't PSICOM, not that I particularly care for the bastards who threw me into this place. If you'd have asked me two days ago, I couldn't tell you, but the guards who brought these poor prisoners down did an awful lot of talking about the mine when they passed through. From what I gathered, this sulfur's going out to be processed into tons of powder and used in some kind of fungicide. Why they care so much about killing off shrooms is beyond me – doesn't seem worth all the labor required."

_Those __idiots. __Do __they __always __have __to _wipe out _the __perceived __threat?_

To Lightning, it was just the Purge mentality carrying over. If they exterminated the naturally occurring fungi in the area, they would unwittingly be wiping out the potential for creating the viral remedy. And it would never eliminate the problem. That type of fungus would survive, developing a resistance to the sulfur-based chemical, and spread even further to proliferate with hardier spores that could have potential do a more efficient job of carrying the virus. PSICOM had stood a better chance at quarantining the fal'Cie five years ago. And _that_ had worked swimmingly.

She growled furiously. "Why didn't they _listen_ to us? We practically handed them a cure, and they treated it with nothing but skepticism. They just leaped on the opportunity to confirm a bunch of unfounded suspicions!"

"If you don't mind my asking," the miner said nervously, clearly still aware of the threat she presented, "what are you talking about?"

"What?" Lightning said, frustrated and startled by the man's interruption. It dawned on her that he might actually not have a clue about details of the virus at all. "How long have you been in this mine?

He thought it over, counting to himself. "Let's see – had to be four years by now. Workers get a surface break once a month for fresh air, and I've had forty-nine of those. Can't believe it's been that long since the protest demonstration that landed me here!" For a moment, his voice took on a nostalgic feel. "Never can remember the name of that l'Cie kid we were defending, some boy PSICOM was after. Hey, you wouldn't happen to know how that turned out, would you?"

"That depends," Lightning responded, wondering just how much information was safe to give this miner. He had so far been cooperative, and seemed to have no loyalty for PSICOM, but it was best to consider all potential vulnerabilities. "You're not stupid, so I'm sure you are aware that you've been helping 'the enemy' by being my guide. I've got a new request. After we get to the prisoners, if you show me the way to an alternate exit from this mine, I'll make it worth your while."

"I knew it!" he said excitedly. "I stumbled into the middle of a break-out. Trust me, I'll help in any way I can if you promise one thing." The miner paused, gathering courage to voice his request in the face of Lightning's stern aura. He gulped. "Just… let me come with you."

This was getting out of control. They were already responsible for the safe recovery of at least twenty other people, but it wasn't as if she had a choice. Using a different exit route was critical to the mission's success, at least by her estimation. Lucil would likely agree.

_One more liability. Not that he doesn't deserve to get out of here._

"Fine," Lightning said reluctantly. "I'll do what I can to get you out too, but if anything goes wrong, there are other priorities – I can't make an ironclad guarantee."

The miner seemed satisfied with his chances. "I'll show you the way, then," he said as they rounded a curve in the path, brighter light filtering into the section of tunnel ahead from a room at its far end. "And that's our first destination." He jerked his head toward the lit room.

"Perfect," Lightning muttered. She recalled something she had intended to say earlier, a down-payment on keeping the miner's loyalty.

"About that 'kid' PSICOM was after – you just met him. His name is Hope."

"_Oh_," he said, eyebrows flying up in surprise. She didn't know what to think of the look on his face, something between suspicion and amusement. "Guess he had to grow up eventually." The sounds of shouting voices and rattling equipment echoed down the passage, and the miner stopped his cart. "So what's the plan?"

Lightning thought it over. "I'm escorting you here after I caught you in the passage – sound solid?"

"Yeah, for about a minute, until they notice my cart and want to know why I brought the load _with_ me," he said skeptically.

"So leave it out here. Even if they find the cart and question you a few minutes later, that's more than enough time to get things under control. Let's move." Lightning pulled the miner away from the cart, prodding him ahead of her into the room.

Within the cavernous space, she counted six guards yelling and directing about twenty prisoners in well-worn chain-gang attire to work positions on the extraction equipment. Lightning also noticed the presence of manual tools – too inefficient for real use, but likely a method of punishment if anyone failed to run the machines properly.

She approached the nearest PSICOM overseer, shoving the miner ahead of her in a gesture of disgust. "Got an open position?" she shouted over the roar of equipment.

The guard turned, cocking his head to one side as he leaned against the equipment. "What? Who sent you back here?"

"No one. I chased this good-for-nothing piece of crap all over the mine and cornered him just outside. He threw my assault rifle down a shaft while I was fixing the machine he'd screwed up, then just bolted!" Lightning punctuated her claim to anger by twisting the miner's arm behind his back, and he cried out – it was painful, but she didn't actually hurt him that way.

_It's all about projection._

Bored as he had seemed before, the overseer laughed and grabbed the miner by his tattered shirt. "I've got just the thing for you," he said in a mocking enthusiastic tone, dragging the man off to a small passage in the left-hand wall. Lightning followed behind, the gears turning as she smiled to herself at yet another stroke of luck. Isolation was always good.

Once they entered the little side room, the PSICOM guard shoved the miner toward a steaming opening in the back wall, picking up a simple bucket and preparing to throw it down the hole. He was wide open.

Lightning leaped onto his back, encircling his neck in a tight stranglehold as she knocked him forward and dug a knee into his kidney.

_Much more effective. Should have attacked this way before… but glad I didn't._

Tightening her hold, she felt the guard's resistance weaken and finally cease altogether as he lost consciousness. She began hurriedly stripping the uniform from him, handing it over to the miner piece by piece.

"Put it on, quick," she ordered, finishing up the work before shredding the man's undershirt and binding his hands and feet behind him with the strips. The miner fumbled nervously, but followed her commands.

Lightning picked up the guard's weapon. "Look, I'm sorry for having to manhandle you earlier, but I do what I have to do." She handed him the assault rifle, then unceremoniously fished into his new uniform's pocket to retrieve an ID card. "Now let's take out your pals," she paused, reading the card, "'Specialist Kinoc'."

Peering back into the main room, she knew it wouldn't be long before the first station's guard was missed. "I'll need you to post where that guard was," she told the miner, "and direct the prisoners to head for the exit once I get started."

"How will I know when _that _is?" he asked nervously, shifting uncomfortably in the uniform.

"Just watch. You'll know." With that, Lightning pushed him forward into the main cave. Once she saw that he had taken up the proper position, she casually strode out and along the wall behind the equipment, pretending to inspect one of the machines.

Another overseer approached before long, shouting, "Hey! What are you doing back there?"

"Routine inspection!" she called back, and he was apparently convinced – that or too busy with his own agenda to care. The guard turned back to yelling at the group of prisoners under his command. She noticed with interest that one particular man being scolded was not behaving like some of the others – he stood up straight in the face of his overseer's rage, even when the guard back-handed him, sending his glasses flying.

At that, despite an overgrowth of hair, destroyed clothing and every other conceivable factor, Lightning knew who he was.

_Bartholomew. These are absolutely the right prisoners. I'll have to work fast._

Lightning looked back at the pipes and gears of the machine in front of her. How Hope made sense of all that tangled confusion of parts, she would never understand, but judging by a tiny leak of pressurized steam from one of the pipes, she was fairly certain that a pick-axe to its connection with the next pipe would yield beautifully disastrous results. Smiling to herself as she spotted and retrieved the tool of choice from against the wall, she made ready to wreak havoc.

_Well, Hope, I told you I was good at destruction._

The heavy axe-head connected with the pipe in a harsh, ear-splitting clang, and Lightning ducked as several bolts flew out from the pressure released. The effect was better than expected. Steam began to envelop the entire area around the machine, soon encompassing a large chunk of the room. She heard the shouts of PSICOM guards as they rushed to the scene of the incident, and she lay in wait for her targets. It was up to her newfound miner ally to begin evacuating the prisoners.

When the first guard entered her steamy cover, Lightning leveled him with a kick to the head that sent his helmet flying before she secured his assault rifle. The next four seemed to converge at once, and as undignified as it felt for her to simply mow them down, there wasn't an alternative – they would be shooting back otherwise. The entire attack took less than thirty seconds.

Lightning methodically stripped and bound the one unconscious guard, moving on to remove the uniforms from the remaining four bodies. The bullet holes were not conspicuous enough to ruin their use. As she finished up, the miner came upon the scene, maintaining distance from the dead.

"I umm, told everyone to stay in the hall," he said shakily. "Are they all—"

"No. That one's alive." Lightning casually pointed to the bound man off to her right, and then grabbed the four assault rifles, piling them into the miner's arms. "Let's get out of here."

Once in the hallway, she observed the rattled prisoners standing huddled near the wall. They physically backed away when she walked in front of them. All but one, anyway.

Lightning handed the hole-less uniform to Bartholomew. "The resistance is in this mine – we're taking you all with us, unless you'd rather stick around."

"So PSCIOM really _does_ have an enemy," Bartholomew said, cautiously taking the uniform. "I was tempted to believe it was a creation of paranoia. But who are you? And how can we trust that this rebellion won't just get us all killed?"

Setting the remaining uniforms on the ground, Lightning removed her helmet. She saw recognition quickly take over the skepticism on Bartholomew's face.

"I'm Lightning Farron. You remember me, don't you," she stated.

"Wait, you're not still a—"

"l'Cie? No, none of us are," Lightning reassured him. She could see him brighten up at the mention of the other l'Cie; naturally, he would want to know about his son.

Wasting no time, she answered both his spoken and unspoken questions. "Rest assured that this rebellion is in good hands – not just mine and the other Guardian Corps soldiers', but Hope's."

"Is he alright? Where is he?" Bartholomew asked, concerned.

"He's here," Lightning replied, skipping over that first question, but the pressure to get out of there was grating at her. They would be trapped at a dead end if they stayed. "And if you want to see him, we have to get to a safer location. For all I know, he could already be at the rendezvous point." She began handing off the remaining uniforms to the nearest prisoners.

"Put these on. Now. Anyone in uniform is about to be posing as an escort party, should we encounter PSICOM on the way out." At that, Lightning turned to the miner and began inspecting the assault rifles. While working on the safety mechanism for the third weapon, she felt someone touch her shoulder. Thinking of Hope, she felt silly for having to shake off disappointment when she looked back.

Bartholomew stood there, set to go. "I'll take one of those," he said simply.

It was an odd moment. Lightning noticed a resemblance with Hope that had not been present before – she remembered their family portrait, and had wondered how he was even related to his father. Now, she could see it. They gave off the same air of determination, if nothing else.

Hoping that her speculation wasn't apparent in the delay, she quickly took the first assault rifle she'd inspected and placed it in his hands.

The miner led the way back to the rendezvous point. They only passed one PSICOM sentry on patrol, and he didn't even question the movement of a party of prisoners led by several guards, thankfully. The entire trip was eerily quiet as they anticipated exposure, except for hushed exchanges between the miner and Bartholomew. Lightning listened passively from behind the two of them.

"So, how do you know Hope?" she heard the miner ask.

Bartholomew was direct. "He's my son."

"_Really_," the miner replied. Lightning did not like his tone. "And you know _her _too, I take it." He pointed a thumb behind him.

"Yes," Bartholomew answered, suspicion in his voice. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason. Just new to this whole rebellion thing."

_Lucky. I was one sentence from silencing that mouth of yours._

Finally, they came to the knife in the wall. No one was there, and Lightning immediately began calculating the amount of time it should have taken Hope to find Lucil, return, and emancipate the commander. She concluded that, if nothing had gone wrong, they might still be at Vargus' cell.

Lightning faced the miner and Bartholomew. "I need you both to keep an eye on the group. I'm going to see if the others need help, so stay together and pretend to be lost if new guards come by. Do _not_ leave the area on your own." With that, she raced down the passage.

* * *

Nothing could have prepared her for the situation at the end of the tunnel. Lucil and Vargus both squatted at the edge of the mine shaft she had climbed from before, calling instructions down into the hole. Only one explanation came to mind.

Rushing to the opening in the ground, Lightning peered into the darkness. Sure enough, Hope was down there, struggling to find hand- and footholds to climb out of the depths.

"What happened?" she asked incredulously.

Lucil looked up from the hole. "I'll cover that in a second, Farron. First, where are the prisoners?"

"At the rendezvous point. A few are in disguise." Lightning looked back down, trying to pick out a steadier route up the side that Hope could take, but it was difficult to see the way she had climbed out from that angle.

Lucil explained that Hope had stumbled on the path near the edge of the shaft and fallen in. She lost her grip when his uniform glove slipped off; clearly, she'd been beating herself up about it since.

"We need a rope," Lucil said, frustrated, "but it would take too much time to find one. There may not be any time left as it is."

She was right; still, there had to be another way. "Are there other options? Any tools lying around that might help?" Lightning asked.

"Light," Hope called up, straining as he climbed, "is that you?"

Looking down, she replied, "Yes. And your dad's fine, so just concentrate on what you're doing!"

There was a sliding sound as Hope lost his hold on the side of the shaft, followed by a thud at the bottom. Sounding winded, he still shouted up to the surface, "Please, just go! Get the prisoners out! Maqui can drive the ship."

"Not a chance, Hope!" Lucil yelled back. "Even if it wasn't a matter of principle, there's no way we're leaving you here for PSICOM to find."

Vargus spoke up. "Sergeant, shouldn't you call the evacuation? It's only a matter of time before someone checks the watch schedule and endangers the team – they might as well get out with the prisoners. I can stay behind. If you hadn't come after me, this would never have happened."

Peering back into the mine shaft, Lightning's head was dizzy with possible solutions, all of which were shot down by the time-sensitive nature of the mission and the complication of finding the prisoners. In the end, there were only two factors she could actually act on: one, there was no way in this life or the next that she was leaving Hope in that hole, and two, she definitely had found a way out of there before. That cinched it.

"Sergeant," Lightning said firmly, "he's right. Call 'White' and evacuate the team and the prisoners. I'm going to get Hope out of here." She began lowering herself over the edge of the mine shaft.

Lucil reached out and grabbed her arm insistently, pulling her away from the opening. "Are you insane? We came here to rescue you!"

"Light, no! Don't come down here!" she heard from below. Between Hope's shouting and Lucil's restraint, Lightning had to shut everything out to get her point across.

"I've climbed out of this hole before, and I can show Hope the way," Lightning explained, jerking against her leader's grip. "Don't feel obligated to rescue me – you only have to worry about the team and the prisoners now. We'll catch up."

"Fine." Lucil relented after several seconds of painful deliberation, releasing Lightning's arm and backing away. "Then I'm ordering you to get him out of here and back to the ship. Take care of yourself, too." She stood, stepping away from the opening.

"Commander, stay if you'd like. Your choice," Lucil said quietly, pulling out her long-range transceiver and offering it to Vargus. "Snow will keep a small team on standby. Just give him a call."

He took the device, already set on staying. "Thank you, Sergeant. Good luck."

Lucil reached for her radio, prepared to make the call for evacuation, but an alarm suddenly began blaring through the tunnels. They were definitely out of time.

"Red! Red!" she shouted into the transceiver, already running down the passage toward the prisoners. It was out of Lightning's hands.

She lowered herself over the edge once again. "Hope, I'm coming down!" Lightning yelled above the alarm, then dropped into the hole.

Landing in a crouch to absorb the shock, she looked around, distinguishing Hope's features in the darkness as her eyes adjusted. He leaned against the wall, posture defeated. She was thankful that the helmet covered his sure-to-be pained expression. _Can__'__t __waste __time __on __comfort __now. _From within the mine shaft, Lightning quickly felt her way to the starting point she had used before – a depression in the rock just to his left.

"You have to follow me out, Hope, and I mean _exactly_ the way I go." She took a position against the wall, placing her right foot into the depression and reaching up for the jutting stone that her left hand found before. Lightning tightened her grip, concentrating like their lives depended on it. They probably did.

Hope placed a steadying hand on her side. "Light, this is the craziest idea you've ever had. What if I _can__'__t_ follow you?" His voice was colored with regret.

"I told you before – can or can't is irrelevant," she huffed, pushing off the ground to grab the next hold with her right hand. "Now shut up and _do _it."

Hope did what she said. He shut up, and he prepared to climb.

_We __can__'__t __give __up. __That __one _is _relevant._

* * *

"Light, I don't think I need to tell you this isn't my area of expertise."

Not that the soldier was having an easy time with the climb as it was. Hope had at least managed to break her fall in the previous two failed attempts.

_Third time's the charm?_

"Hope," Lightning growled in frustration, "_focus_! Less talking, more breathing."

If only it was that simple. He concentrated on breathing, using the holds that she had just pushed off from, but no amount of willpower could shake the disorientation that plagued him. It had landed him in the hole, and it refused to let up. Half the time he closed his eyes to feel out the next support rather than trust his vision.

To make matters worse, the beginnings of a headache had started a doom counter in his mind. Hope ignored it with all his might.

A little shower of rock dust slid down from above as they reached the halfway point, and he was suddenly alerted to Lightning's foot slipping from its hold. Reaching up, he held the boot in place.

"I've got it, Hope," she said insistently. He felt the boot lift away and fumbled to grip the depression it had left behind. Lightning was already moving on.

They were over three-quarters of the way up when exhaustion really set in with a vengeance. Hope's head was already pounding; he knew that falling one more time would likely destroy his chances at escape. There wouldn't be a fourth attempt.

He looked up. Lightning was just within his reach. As if sensing his desperation, she called down, "Grab my ankle if you start slipping. We're almost there, and the grips here are more solid."

_As __if __I __would __dare __to __pull __you __down _with _me._

"Light, just keep go—"

"_No_." she said, straining. "Grab on. If you fall, I'm jumping in."

_Perfect. Too stubborn for her own good._

The edge of the mine shaft was maybe three meters away, and he saw that Lightning had gotten a hand outside. Hope's arms and shoulders were screaming at him, already trembling from the strain. It took every ounce of remaining energy for him to push up to the next points of support, and as he grasped at the rock where his right hand needed to go, he felt himself miss the mark and claw at air.

"_Crap_," he muttered, but it wasn't lost on Lightning.

"Hope! Here!" She extended her boot toward him, and against his better judgment, he grabbed hold.

Hope wasn't clear on the details, his head having decided to throb insistently during the last of their climb, but he had somehow scrambled along, half-pulled by Lightning's leg and half-supported by the footholds, until a hand gripped his free wrist and pulled him over the edge. On his hands and knees outside of the mine shaft, he belatedly noticed that Vargus was right there. The commander had helped pull him up.

"Thank you," Hope said breathlessly, wishing he could collapse. The alarms were still blaring in the background, bringing renewed force to his headache.

Miraculously – he had neither explanation nor recollection to give – he had gotten to his feet, and the three of them wound their way back to the tunnel's exit, already making time on the ascent up the metal walkway. Chaos was everywhere, workers and PSICOM guards alike running around below or following the walkway to search other tunnels for the intruders. At least they blended in. Hope had begun to think his luck would hold out, that he could manage the pain and maintain consciousness until they made it to safety. The exit was tauntingly close.

Then his luck ended with a sudden misstep, sending him rolling down the short set of stairs and onto the landing at its base. Hope lay on his stomach, trying to look up at where he had gone wrong, but the lights and sounds on the walkway arrested his senses – his head exploded with pain.

_NO. This can't happen now, not here._

Moments later, he felt Lightning pulling at him, attempting to help him to his feet. "Hope, get up! We can't stop moving!"

Shakily getting to his knees as the pain lulled briefly, he pulled off the helmet that threatened suffocation. Disguise was far less important at that point. Hope felt his face burning with fever, immune system fighting in vain against the unbeatable infection. Everything within him _had_ to keep fighting.

Hope stood to his feet, but the room was spinning, and he fell right into Lightning – the effort was downright useless. She held him steady, removing her own helmet and pulling back to get a look at him, eyes widening in fear when she touched a hand to his forehead.

"Oh no," she whispered, and it felt like the words had stabbed him in the chest. He couldn't sort his thoughts to reply. Continuing to hold him up, Lightning shouted to Vargus, "Call Snow! We're getting him out of here _right __now_!"

She faced him again as she tried to pull him along, speaking with forced determination. "Hope, stay with me. Understand?"

Mustering all his concentration, Hope remained upright, but he couldn't make his legs work, and Lightning was already going in and out of focus. He blinked rapidly.

_I have to say something. Before it's too late._

"Light, please get out safely – do whatever it takes," he said, his own voice distant in his ears. "I'm sorry…I wanted to tell you…"

She looked so lost, guilty and conflicted and worried, and he wished to wipe that expression away, but the room was getting dark. His legs gave way, sending him to his knees.

Following him down, Lightning knelt in front of him. She gripped his shoulders, and he felt her hands trembling. "Hope," she said, choking on the words, "We're _not_ leaving you, not if we have to carry you to the ship. If you give up now I'll—"

"_Don__'__t_– don't worry," he said, cutting her short and praying she could hear over the deafening whirlwind of noise that assaulted his ears. There was barely time to tell her.

"I love you too much to let you down."

He would have given everything to see her reaction, to know he had left her surprised or hopeful – anything other than _frightened_ – but his vision went black the instant those words were released. His timing for reassurances needed work.

The last thing Hope heard was his name, shouted desperately from far away.

_I _won't _give __up, __Light. __Trust __me._

* * *

Endnote: I decided to keep the grand tradition of letting my beta write inappropriate comedic scenes for the chapter so my readership could have a good, hearty laugh :D Here's her newest edition of Endnote humor:

**In ****the ****Bottom ****of ****the ****Mine ****Shaft ****(of ****DESTINYYYYY)**

**Hope**: Okay, for reals, we've tried climbing up this and failed. Let's just give up.  
**Light**: Hey, remember what I told you about being a soldier?  
**Hope**: ...it's our sacred right to complain?  
**Light**: No, that's from Snow. Mine was more along the lines of "stop whining before I shove my foot up your-"  
**Hope**: OKAY FINE. But can we at least take a break?  
**Light**: And what, wait for PSICOM to find us, imprison us, and eventually torture us to death?  
**Hope**: Well, yeah, probably, but while we wait, I was thinking more along the lines of the makeouts you promised.  
**Light**: [aggravated sigh] FINE. But THEN, can we get out of here?  
**Hope**: Uh, need I remind you: makeouts. I'm pretty much going to agree to whatever you say right now.  
**Light**: Let's keep it that way.  
[MAKEOUTS HAPPEN! STORY HAS (VERY MILD) PORN! IT'S ALL VERY PORNY AND HOT]  
**Light**: All right, seven minutes in heaven is over. Let's get to climbing.  
**Hope**: ...I have a headache.  
**Light**: DUDE. C'MON.  
**Hope**: [passes out from Epic Sickness]  
**Light**: [irritated] Okay, now you're just doing it for the attention.

Beta: At one point, I had Light saying, "FINE. But THEN, can we climb up the shaft?" and I had to stop writing because I couldn't stop giggling like a twelve-year-old. Heehee, she said shaft. Really, I promise I'm an adult. No, really.


	17. Like a Machine

A/N: Even with going to a Halloween party (as Mother Nature – last minute prep and all) I have managed to upload this :D Sadly, however, my beta was a bit busier, so there is no Endnote Humor for the chapter. Anyway, hope this one goes over well, and I can't wait to read the reviews! Here's a couple of informative tid-bits before getting started:

*180 centimeters = approx. 5'11", and 76.2 kilograms = approx. 168 lbs (I've been trying to keep the story on the metric system because I assumed that a futuristic world like FFXIII's would use a very precise standardized system, not that I don't love, and generally use, the English Standard system).

*Blood plasma can be stored for up to a year when frozen.

Disclaimer: Square Enix owns it, and I love it. Free advertising for them :P

(revised 01OCT11)

Like a Machine

"_Hope!_"

For a brief gap in time, Lightning couldn't move, couldn't breathe – didn't want to.

She should have known. She _had_ known, long before that moment, before physically feeling his shoulders slump under her fingers, before seeing his head drop forward into pain-induced oblivion.

That didn't mean she truly believed it – knowing did nothing to lessen the shock.

And they were still surrounded by chaos. Vargus was shouting orders, shaking her shoulder, prying her hands free. The entire evolution seemed to be on mute for Lightning, but she mechanically did what she was trained to do – she carried on with the mission. She stood up. She joined the commander in supporting Hope's body as they dragged him up the last, short flight of stairs and out the door. And she handed him over when Snow's party met them at the edge of the trees.

Distantly, Lightning saw many other personnel in PSICOM uniform out on the field as well, mustering with their units or talking on radios, probably complaining about the intrusion and how it had interrupted their work day. In all the confusion, no one glanced at the insignificant trio of soldiers slipping out of sight.

It didn't matter.

The team carried Hope away, and Lightning stepped aside, collapsing against a tree for support. Snow was already frantically calling for site-pickup over the radio – it sounded like Sazh would be on his way, but they had to travel on foot to get out of the hot zone. There were simply too many PSICOM eyes in the vicinity.

"Sis? Hey, Light! _Lightning!_" Snow was yelling at her, but she didn't really hear him until the last emphatic shout of her name.

"Hmm," she responded, feeling absolutely no motivation, no strength. Nothing.

Snow looked angry and confused. "What _happened_? Did you plan on telling me why Hope's _unconscious_ or were you going to let that one go?

"What do you think happened?" Her voice was entirely dead.

He flinched at her lack of expression, concern all over his face. "Relapse."

She nodded.

"I should have seen this coming!" he growled in frustration, and his irritation only grew as Lightning failed to respond. "We have to leave _now_."

_Is there a point? Is there even a chance?_

Snow looked at Lightning, who was frozen in place, and continued to vent. "What are you _waiting_ for? Get it together! We're hauling him to that transport, and we _are_ going to make it in time!

"Right," Lightning said numbly, pushing off the tree, running behind the departing team members as she left Snow to his emotions. She wished she could believe him.

It must have taken almost two hours to circumnavigate the PSICOM-heavy area and make it far enough west for the transport pickup. The only indicator of change Lightning acknowledged was the steadily lowering sun as she kept up a fast-paced run through the trees, passing the group of team members who were burdened with Hope. She knew he was there, but refused to look back or even think about the situation.

Finally, the transport touched down. The team loaded inside, setting up a little cot in the back of the cabin and carefully placing Hope onto it. Lightning watched, as if distantly observing through field binoculars, when they tied down the cot, strapped his body securely to it, and left him there. She looked away. It still seemed so unreal. Hope was never at the rear of the ship.

_That can't be Hope. He should be up front. _

Lightning barely noticed when they landed at the clearing some time later, having spent the entirety of the trip lost in some sort of limbo. The team rushed around her, collapsing the cot at the back and carrying it down the exit ramp like a stretcher, and Vargus and Snow hurried out on their heels. Snow continued to shout over his transceiver, but she had no idea what was being said. Even when the ship powered down, she didn't get up.

Moments later, the pilot stepped out – Lightning looked toward the cockpit instinctively. She saw Sazh, took in the pained expression on his face, and suddenly felt the bubble of shock around her burst into nothing. Hope wasn't there. He really _was_ fighting for his life. Everything – everything that had happened, everything Hope had said – came rushing in, and she felt sure her heart had been ripped out and cut into tiny pieces.

_NO! __He __can__'__t __die. __He _can't_._

Jerking free of the belts, Lightning ran past Sazh's sympathetic figure and out into the dusk. She had no idea what to do, only where to go. In her previous state, she had shut it all out, numbing the pain to leave her practically incapacitated for hours – an unacceptable loss of limited time. Now, she sprinted across the clearing, around tents and supplies and the massive evacuation ship jutting out of the ground, every step beating against the gaping, invisible chest wound that seemed to widen as she reached the medical transport and rushed up the ramp. Lightning knocked on the hatch and backed away. She panted from the run, each breath more tortured than the last.

Snow opened the hatch, and Lightning had no idea what to do or say. She still _tried_.

"_Please_… he's not… is he? I don't know how— I can't even _help_!" she stuttered, not caring that she sounded like a babbling idiot in front of the self-proclaimed hero. He didn't seem to care either, because her giant brother-in-law-to-be simply stepped forward and pulled her into a bear hug. She must have looked as destroyed as she felt – the lump in her throat was choking her, and she bit furiously down on her tongue to keep control. She tasted iron.

"We didn't lose him," Snow replied.

Lightning broke. Her quiet, wracking sobs were lost in the familiar white trench-coat, and she didn't notice for several seconds that he had maneuvered her down the ramp and next to the transport's cold, metal hull. She just clung to the fabric for dear life and let out all the frustration and guilt and pain.

Once the flood of emotion had run dry, she backed away, feeling even more embarrassed when Snow patted her head like a child. Still, it helped that she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he, of all people, understood exactly how she was hurting. Watching Serah turn to crystal could have killed him.

"Thanks," Lightning sniffed, swiping her face clean in haste. "Between you and me, this never happened." Her stern tone lacked its edge. "Got it?"

Snow cracked a smile. "Whatever you say. But if you ever give Hope trouble, I might not be willing to keep it to myself."

So the subject was open; she had to ask. No amount of pain could outweigh the need to know. "How is he, now? What are they doing in there?"

"All I can tell is that he's hooked up to a bunch of monitors. Serah's on it, and I'd trust her with my own life," Snow replied. "When I asked, she said not to interrupt, and that they'd let us know something after they got back to base Medical – they're taking off once he's stabilized. That's what this radio is for." He pulled out the transceiver and waved it in the air.

Lightning looked enviously at the device. Unexpectedly, Snow held it out toward her. "Keep us updated," he said with a smile. "I've gotta let Hope's dad in on the situation, once he gets here."

That's _going __to __be __a __pleasant __conversation._

"Right," Lightning said, taking the transceiver. "Where is he?"

"On his way from the PSICOM outpost, where everyone else is staying. Maqui reported to Sazh when they took off, and I guess he must've done some crazy maneuvering in-flight, because Sazh said that transport was weaving all over the radar." Snow sounded excited – it must have been a close call. "According to Maqui, they were being tailed by a couple of patrol craft until the halfway point, so he didn't fly directly toward any rebel sites for a while on the off-chance that they would follow his course, and he landed at the PSICOM post in case anyway. Guess they lost those two in the end, but that was pretty smart for a newbie."

"Yeah." Lightning had to agree, but there were many more pressing matters vying for her attention. She looked across the clearing, toward the path coming up from the outpost. "When do you think Bartholomew will get here?"

"Twenty minutes, tops," Snow replied. "I called him the second the ship landed, right after calling Serah. It was total mayhem for a few minutes there."

Lightning felt a pang of guilt. "Sorry I wasn't any help. I'll make it up to you."

"No need," Snow protested, kicking a rock across the dirt. "That was the worst case of shock I've ever seen, and that's sayin' something – I once found a guy who'd just watched his teammate dismembered by gorgonopsids." He paused, looking over at the wrecked evacuation ship. "Sometimes, though, I think it's harder on people who are _used_ to shutting everything out, because they automatically keep the pain inside, thinking they can hold it there. Maybe it's got nothing to do with what actually happened."

Considering his words, Lightning wondered if that was how Hope dealt with things. He always seemed to let his emotions out, but some part of him still tended to hold back: the part that refused to acknowledge his sickness. And perhaps, to an extent, the part that wouldn't show how much he missed his father.

That thought gave her inspiration for how to help. "Snow, let me talk to Hope's dad for you."

"Hmm." He thought it over for a moment, and then said, "Fair enough. You should probably get to know the guy anyway, considering."

_He _had _to __go __there._

Lightning crossed her arms and leaned back against the hull. They stood in silence for several minutes as she refused to humor Snow's prodding, but after a while, she decided it might be a good opportunity to use the brief sanctuary of their circumstances to get his perspective on a touchy subject, one that kept popping up in the midst of her emotionally-charged memories of the last few hours.

"Hey, Snow."

"Oh, so you're talking to me now," he teased.

"I want to ask you something. And do _not_ laugh."

"Shoot," he replied, tacking on, "but I can't promise anything."

"Fine," Lightning growled. "Nevermind."

Snow took a more agreeable stance. "Okay, okay. No laughing. Ask away."

Clearing her throat, she asked quietly, "When did you tell Serah that you loved her?"

"Why do you wanna know?" Snow's tone suggested that he had already jumped to a conclusion. Quite possibly the correct one.

"Not important," Lightning replied flatly. "Just answer the question."

He grinned. "Well, I'd have to say it was a few weeks after we started dating, not that the amount of time really matters. It was more about the moment – just seemed right."

"Clearly you _meant_ it," she said under her breath. "But wasn't that too… fast? Or sudden?"

"Ha! So you _believe_ me now. And like I said – doesn't matter. If you know what you want, why not put it out there? The feeling's still real whether you keep it to yourself or share it with someone, so I say share it." Snow seemed perfectly satisfied with his response, but his explanation left a hole.

Which Lightning exploited. "And what if you _don__'__t_ know what you want?"

"You figure it out! And fast. Before you screw things up and lose what you wanted before giving it a chance." Snow elbowed her playfully to punctuate his point, and she briefly thought about getting him back despite the heavy atmosphere of it all, but the exchange came to an abrupt halt as two figures approached from the mouth of the trail across the clearing.

No longer in PSICOM uniform, Bartholomew and Lucil strode up to them. It was clear that neither of them knew exactly what had gone wrong, just that something _was_ wrong. Lightning was unsure if addressing two concerned people would be better or worse than talking one on one with Bartholomew, but fortunately for her, Snow didn't seem to plan on leaving her alone.

Lucil spoke first. "Alright you two – catch us up. What the hell happened that couldn't just be called in over the radio? And where's Hope?" Her questioning glare was very distinctly aimed at Lightning.

The dread of passing on the devastation she had just experienced washed over Lightning, and she swallowed hard. "Serah's working on him," she finally said, her voice thicker than she would have liked. "He relapsed right before we got out."

Snow had placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder – he must have sensed that it was going to be the extent of what she had to say for the time being. Lucil looked absolutely mortified, her mouth open but failing to respond, and Bartholomew had the look of someone who _felt _terrified, but had no specific way to explain why.

"What?" he asked, lost. "What do you mean, _relapsed_?"

"They're stabilizing him," Snow simply kept explaining, probably hoping that reassurance might come from a focus on controllable factors. "And Serah wants to move him to base Medical as soon as possible. We called you guys over to see him before he left. Especially you, Mr. Estheim."

It wasn't exactly working. "Who is Serah? What happened to my _son_?" Bartholomew asked, the questions carrying the sting of desperation underneath his barely-raised voice. Lightning couldn't stand it anymore.

"He's _sick_, sir," she said shakily, not really sure how she was going to get it all out coherently. "And it's not the first time. But Serah – my sister – she knows how to treat this-this virus, it's just… it's a more serious case. Either way, I trust her, so please, don't worry." Lightning found herself repeating the last thing that Hope had told her to do, her voice dying away. Maybe it was the best advice. At any rate, she didn't know what else to offer.

"Did you _know_?" Lucil asked, her own voice barely more stable.

Lightning could only shake her head, but she wasn't really the person with whom Lucil was frustrated when the red-haired sergeant exclaimed to the void, "Ugh! That stupid cure, the stupid tracking device – I never should have let him leave the transport! He could have been safe there. He could have been…"

"_Enough_," Bartholomew said authoritatively. He hadn't actually raised the volume of his voice, but everyone looked to him. "Just take me to Hope. I haven't seen him in five years, and I _won__'__t_ miss this chance."

Mutely, Snow walked past them and up the ramp. Bartholomew followed him, just ahead of Lucil, and Lightning reluctantly trailed the group, unsure if she was ready to see the reality of the situation again. Snow knocked on the hatch, and one of the medical assistants opened it.

"Good timing, sir. He's mostly stable – we need to leave as soon as possible."

"Just give us a minute," Snow said, stepping inside with a wave, probably toward Serah. They filed in behind.

When Lightning came on the scene, Bartholomew was already affixed to the side of the makeshift operating table, a single, trembling hand on the top of Hope's head, fingers loosely weaving into his hair. His other hand was clenched over the lip of the table. Lucil stood at a distance, next to the hull at near-attention, as if standing guard over the situation might do some sort of good. Lightning didn't blame her. She had no idea what to do herself besides take it all in.

Hope had been stripped of the stifling PSICOM uniform and lay mostly covered by a simple, white sheet, little electrodes standing out against his far-too-pale chest and arms, in contrast with far-too-flushed cheeks; the setup was complete with an IV and every other kind of tool Serah had seen fit to use and had available. To Lightning, seeing her sister in a mask and gloves was still foreign in and of itself, cementing the whole surreal picture. Something within her needed to know if it _was_ real. She found herself walking over to the table, taking Hope's wrist. His pulse was weak, but sure enough, it beat in time with the beeping of the heart monitor. Moving down to his hand, she felt its coldness and gripped it with warmth.

_Don't give up._

"Sis, we have to leave," Serah said, gently separating their hands, lifting Lightning's away. The soldier had no idea how long she'd been holding on. It couldn't have been more than a minute or two, but when she looked up, she saw that no one else remained in the cramped cabin besides the medical staff.

"Okay." She leaned over and kissed Hope's burning forehead, turned away, and walked out.

_Why do so many things in life require so much trust?_

* * *

For the next twenty-four hours, everyone was suspended on a highwire of anticipation – without a safety net. It wouldn't have been apparent to the untrained eye, what with soldiers scurrying around to pack supplies and military matters still being addressed. Commander Vargus had fully committed his outpost command to the cause after everything that had happened, and Major Nooj had carried on a radio conference for general information exchange and strategic planning. Because PSICOM already had a working outpost facility, all temporary rebel operations were being moved, piece by piece, out of the crash site and into the building complex up the trail. They would have use of the communications equipment for continuing deception as well as relaying the signals of their own equipment. As it stood, the thirty-man expedition team had basically become a permanent party in the first joint command since the rift.

Lightning ran out of tasks by the end of that first day. She had wandered around seeking ways to keep busy for nearly half an hour, but eventually gave up and followed some sentimental impulse to return to the transport – the one bearing Bartholomew's name. Stepping into the cabin, she was unnerved by the silence. It was worse than Hope's place next to the 'CONDEMNED' block, and she shuddered at that emptiness, heading straight for the cockpit. It _wasn__'__t_ empty.

"Considering this ship had my name on it, I thought it was alright to come in." Bartholomew sat in the pilot's seat, staring blankly at the dash controls. He had cleaned up considerably; besides shaving, some soldier must have given him a much-needed haircut. Hope might have gotten away with a bit of a wild look, but it hadn't worked on his father.

Lightning took the co-pilot's place, still gripping the long-range transceiver and facing the dash herself. "Fair assumption," she said quietly.

"I take it Hope named this ship," Bartholomew said, trying to make small talk.

She smiled sadly. "Hope _flies_ this ship."

"Oh," he replied, regret in his voice. "Hard to believe I don't know my own son – even harder to think I might never know."

That was not a good way for things to go, not in the middle of their desperate waiting game. Lightning decided to redirect the conversation.

"Maybe I can catch you up," she offered. "I don't pretend to be an expert, but it would pass the time – he can tell you the rest himself."

Bartholomew turned to her. Obviously, he was far from _happy_, but gratitude shone in his eyes. "I'll take you up on that offer. Your five years' worth of information is more than enough."

"Honestly," Lightning said quietly, "I've only had a month. I know you have no idea about how crystalstasis works when a l'Cie completes a focus, but this is the short version: I was essentially frozen in time after the fall of Cocoon, until a few weeks ago."

Surprise was evident on his face, but it was soon replaced by understanding. "Well, that explains a few things. You really do look _exactly_ the same as I remember."

"Yeah, it wasn't because of incredibly age-resistant genes. I woke up in the middle of this conflict, and Hope was just… _grown_." She felt momentarily embarrassed.

Bartholomew laughed, which did not help. "I know the feeling."

_Pretty sure your 'feeling' and my 'feeling' have a few points of difference._

"So," Lightning began, soldiering on, "what do you want to know?"

"Whatever you can tell me," he requested.

It was a tall order. _What __defines __Hope?_ "Well, he's a mechanic." _Solid __start._ "If it's broken, it's a safe bet that he can fix it. Guess that comes from being a workaholic. But he's always positive, and he loves many unexpected things – barely-sweetened coffee, burnt marshmallows, stargazing, the color yellow…"

_Me._

"You didn't finish. Please, go on," Bartholomew urged.

Lightning hadn't planned to. "Sorry, lost my train of thought."

"Anything else I should know?" he asked.

"He misses you," she said, recovering. "If you don't remember anything else I say, remember that – he's spent years trying to find you. And I think it's safe to say that everyone loves him for being so determined and caring."

Bartholomew considered that for a moment. "Is that why _you_ love him?"

_Jumped right into that one. Nice move, Light._

"I-I don't know," she stammered, uncertain. "That's part of it." _Why __am __I __telling __him __this? __I __could __lie__ – __or __leave._

"Part of it, huh. And the rest would be…?" He just wouldn't let up. What was it about that stupid cockpit that always had her trapped in awkward conversation?

"Ugh," Lightning sighed. "He's just _like_ you! So. Many. Questions."

Laughing again, Bartholomew finally did move on. "I seriously doubt that."

"Depends. Are you idealistic to a fault?" she asked.

"No. That would be Nora's influence."

Yet another touchy subject. "Oh," Lightning replied simply. "Never got to meet her."

"That's a shame." Bartholomew shook his head sadly, but she could have sworn that his tone turned mischievous when he said, "You still didn't answer my question."

_So __much __for __redirecting._ "What question?"

"You know which one, young lady."

Lightning hadn't been spoken to like that since before her parents died, and it made her indignant. "You realise I'm twenty-one and an experienced soldier. I'm not obligated to answer."

"Perhaps," he replied. "But you're a twenty-one-year-old experienced soldier who seems to have some sort of relationship with my son. I think I deserve to know about it."

Stomach fluttering with embarrassment, Lightning wasn't quite sure _how_ to answer, whether or not she was obligated. He had a point, though, as the concerned father of the boy – _well, __the __man_ – that tended to occupy her thoughts too frequently for comfort. Whatever the case, she remained on the defensive.

"Why do people like you, and Serah, and Snow love jumping to conclusions?" she asked somewhat angrily. "Tell me that."

Bartholomew answered evenly. "I am fairly confident in saying that it's not 'jumping to conclusions.' It's called insight. And it's probably because we've been where you are, and felt what you feel." He paused, and then added a much more important fact. "Well, that and your team leader is both insightful and talkative. I probably wouldn't have been _looking _for anything between you and Hope had Lucil not dropped some very clear hints."

"Ugh," Lightning groaned. "Of course she did. Based on her version, or at least my _sister__'__s_ version of 'insight', I'd call it _speculation_," she muttered, her face tinged pink at the thought.

Chuckling, he backed off on his former approach. "You misunderstand. I wasn't asking for personal details, I just wanted to confirm my own suspicions. If I'm wrong, just say so. That's all I need to know."

_You might consider a career in criminal interrogation._

She sighed. Lying to Hope's father would not be in her best interest. "You're not _wrong, _at least not in general. Specifically… I can neither confirm nor deny."

"This isn't a courtroom," Bartholomew said, smirking, "but I appreciate your honesty." He removed his glasses and cleaned them on his shirt. "And just for your information, my assumptions on the 'specifics' are tame."

_Good. Think I'll let you keep it at hand-holding for peace of mind._

Right then, static came over the transceiver. "Sis!" Serah called, "Do you copy?"

Fumbling and nearly dropping the device, Lightning held the PTT button and answered, "I'm here, Serah! Go ahead."

There was a pause of static, and Lightning felt her heart make its way to her throat again – she suspected that Bartholomew was in the same state.

"We've got his fever down a little," Serah began, "but it's going to be a while before we can tell much about the treatment's effect."

Lightning immediately asked, "Is he conscious?"

"Not yet. That's to be expected. You guys should go ahead and fly over though, to see him when he does wake up." Serah's end was silent for a few seconds before she continued, "And give the radio to Lucil. I think she has to stay with the team in the field right now."

"Got it," Lightning said. "Thank you, Serah."

"Don't mention it. Just get over here!"

"Roger that." The restless soldier stood from the co-pilot's seat and headed out of the cockpit. Bartholomew eagerly followed suit.

Lightning immediately ran to Lucil, delivering the news along with the transceiver and receiving an unexpected hug of appreciation, and Lucil wasted no time in calling the rest of the team together to relay Hope's progress. Snow was clearly getting antsy; he just about beat Lightning to Sazh's transport the instant they were dismissed, even with the burden of hauling Snuggles along. It was a quiet ride back to base, despite the wyvern, as everyone felt too anxious to really make conversation.

* * *

At the rebel base, the next four days dragged through a loop of visiting Medical, finding time for food, occupying themselves with anything available, trying in vain to sleep, and visiting Medical again. Serah constantly gave status reports to the concerned group of friends and family, but it seemed as if nothing was going on besides the incessant struggle to lower Hope's temperature to a safe level.

That remained the case, up until the fourth day began drawing to a close, still with no improvement. Lightning could see that her sister was deeply concerned by the sustained high fever – the anti-viral treatments, even when staggering variations of both remedy types, were not having further effect.

"I'm not leaving. Not until you make a decision," Lightning said stubbornly, leaning against the doorframe as she focused on Hope's still-wired form. He looked practically a part of the medical machinery at that point – a nucleus of life connected to the circuitry and monitors of measurement and sustaining equipment.

Serah paced along a habitual track around the room, but she stopped at Lightning's comment. "It's not about _making_ a decision, Sis, it's about finding any options at all!"

She checked and rechecked Hope's chart, looking for any indications in her notes of former positive responses, no matter how small, to any of the treatment routines used on him during his previous and current bouts with the virus. Lightning couldn't make much sense of the information as she read over her sister's shoulder, but when Serah tossed the papers onto a table in frustration and sat by the bed, Lightning took the file herself out of curiosity.

"I don't really know much about this, but maybe a fresh set of eyes would do some good." Unable to understand much of the scribbled notes, she flipped to the front of the stack and perused the general information page, quietly reading it aloud in contemplation.

"Let's see… 'Hope Estheim, age 19, height 180 centimeters, weight 76.2 kilograms, blood type B-positive, allergies include'—"

"Wait!" Serah interrupted, hastily standing and crossing the room. "Let me see that!" She snatched the file from her stunned sister and stared at the page as though her concentration alone could solve the mysteries of the universe.

Serah began pacing around again, muttering to herself, "Why didn't I think of this _before_? If we could hook up the tubes now – no, I need Ann and the other staff. She's better on those procedures…"

"What are you _talking_ about?" Lightning cut in.

Snapping out of her focused state, Serah looked a little irritated by the interruption – her nerves were beyond frazzled. "I'm talking about a possible solution! Don't you see it?"

Lightning was unsatisfied and said impatiently, "No. _Explain_."

"Sis, Hope and I have the _same_ blood type," she began, calming down. "Understand that this is a last ditch effort, but we have one option that could work: an exchange transfusion. It's so simple – wouldn't have missed it, if I hadn't been so caught up in all the anti-viral treatment research and the new remedy. Not that I can guarantee the results, and we'll have to wait and see how long the effects last or if he has any adverse reactions. But we can do _something_."

"_Exchange_ transfusion? Serah, there's no possible way you can give up enough blood to replace all of his. I've only ever heard of infants getting that type of operation." Lightning couldn't quite wrap her head around it.

Serah smiled, looking giddy at the chance to prove a naysayer wrong. "True, and that would be a real problem… if I didn't keep a fairly large plasma bank from my own blood for all the treatment testing and production we do on a regular basis. There should be more than enough for a full transfusion. It will slow our research temporarily, but I don't think I have to convince you that Hope is worth it."

"You really think it will work?" Lightning asked apprehensively.

Ushering her sister back toward the door, Serah simply replied, "Only one way to find out. I'll get the crew together and start the procedure as soon as possible, but it's going to be crowded and messy in here, so I want you to wait for word from me once we're finished. Now go get some sleep – wherever it is you've been sleeping."

_Like I can just sleep peacefully while you pump the blood out of Hope's body. Fat chance._

"Fine," Lightning muttered as she skulked away from the treatment room.

* * *

Refusing to stay at either her sister's home or the abandoned place at the end of the street, Lightning had consistently haunted the bunker at night, and sometimes the hangar during the day if she couldn't find another quiet place to practice with the gunblade. Not surprisingly, she hadn't gotten any actual sleep – being in Hope's room, on Hope's bed, and with Hope's pillow didn't exactly do anything to help the situation.

It was already into the hottest part of the afternoon, and Lightning had been slashing the practice dummy to bits since dragging herself up at the crack of dawn. She was making a concentrated effort to release every ounce of pent-up anxiety while waiting for Serah's call. The procedure had been completed by noon, but Hope had not yet shown significant signs of response, and they were still removing the transfusion equipment. Lightning was beginning to think her nerves would be the death of her if she didn't hear static over the transceiver soon, when news came from a source _other _than her radio.

Without warning, Snow burst in the side door and nearly knocked over a rack of tools. He continued across the hangar at full speed, yelling all the way, "Hope woke up! Come on, Light!"

Frozen in place by his exclamation, gunblade mid-swing in front of the shredded remnants of the dummy, Lightning found herself being grabbed and pulled outside in a matter of seconds with tremendous force. Not that she minded. Her brain was still catching up to her heart.

_Finally._

* * *

Hope woke up in a panic.

"Light!" he yelled, but his throat was too hoarse to accomplish much. His eyes tried to focus, hazily taking in the familiar clinic, and Hope lay back on the drenched pillow in exhaustion. Through the muddle of his thoughts, he pushed forward to the present – the fever had broken, the pain was gone.

_It was just a nightmare._

But his voice had gotten the attention of someone else in the room, and it wasn't five seconds before footsteps approached the bed and Hope was raised up in a vice-grip hug. It definitely _wasn__'__t_ Serah.

"I missed you, son," an all-too-familiar male voice choked, and Hope reached up and squeezed back with all the strength he could possibly muster. The reality of the situation hit him full-force, long unshed tears running down his face in steady tracks.

"Dad," he said, hating how gravelly his voice sounded. "I'm sorry it took so long."

Bartholomew pulled back. "Don't apologise. I know you did everything you could." He grinned at Hope as he added, "And look at you – people might actually think we're related now. Not that I can't still see your mother there."

Smiling, Hope just looked down and wiped his face dry. He never could get used to compliments, particularly not from his father.

Serah rushed on the scene, surprise and joy just about consuming her entire being. "Hope!" she gushed, running to the bed and smothering him in another hug before she hastily ran a check on his vitals. She seemed to get more excited by the second and finally exclaimed, "I can't believe that worked! Our crazy operation actually paid off!"

"_What _worked?" Hope asked, head still foggy from the medication and sleep and fever, but she was already headed into the next room. As he took a drink from the water glass on the bedside table, he heard her practically shouting on the radio.

"Snow, he's up! Is Sis with you?" she asked, pausing momentarily. "No, I couldn't get through to her radio… stupid interference." Another pause. "Just _find_ her and get over here _now_!"

_Light's coming._

Hope instinctively perked up with excitement, nearly spitting out the water, but he progressively became more uneasy as he remembered piece by piece what he had last said to Lightning, and how much trouble he had just put her through. It was going to be messy.

And his father would get to see it all.

"What's wrong, son?"

He sighed, simply too tired to put up a front. "Light's going to kill me."

Chuckling, Bartholomew shook his head. "Think you may have the wrong verb there. If by 'Light' you mean Lightning Farron, I don't see why she would do anything of the sort."

"Trust me, I can _list_ the reasons," Hope said wearily. "First, I didn't _tell_ her I was getting sick again… then I tracked her into a mine and got stuck in a hole – oh, and I scared the crap out of her by passing out right after I—" He stopped abruptly, rethinking the decision to let his words be known to anyone else, even his dad.

_I __told __her __I __loved __her. __I__'__m __sure __she __took _that _well._

His father looked at him with curiosity and amusement, and Hope belatedly noticed that his face felt warm and tingly. Glancing sideways, the cozy thirty-seven degrees Celsius on his temperature monitor eliminated fever as the culprit, and he groaned and covered his face with his hands, falling back into the pillows that he wished would swallow him whole.

"Any chance I could guilt the rest out of you?" Bartholomew teased.

Hope's response was a muffled, resigned, "Eventually."

Mussing Hope's hair, Bartholomew just laughed at the pathetic teenager before him, and soon enough, Hope laughed along with him. It eased the tension and temporarily lifted the weight that had settled on Hope's chest. Not that it lasted long.

"Serah! We're coming through!" Snow hailed the instant he had stepped into the clinic, louder at one room over than most people were at whispering distance. Moments later, he stumbled into the room, dragging a very sweaty and flustered-looking Lightning with him.

Despite his previous apprehension, Hope lit up like bulbs on a live circuit board when he saw Lightning, wishing more than anything for the strength to get off the bed and go to her. It was an odd clash with his actual desires when Snow tackled him in what was the third hug of the day, then backed off to punch him in the arm as lightly as possible – he was almost insulted.

"Welcome back!" Snow exclaimed. "How ya feelin'?"

Hope sat all the way up and stretched. "Like I slept forever. Kind of light-headed, but it's just the medicine wearing off."

"Awesome. Clear that up, and I'll be back to check on you later!" Snow said, ruffling Hope's hair into further disarray before he turned to leave. He waved and clapped Lightning on the shoulder as he passed her on the way out. Hope could tell she was relieved but more prominently conflicted, hanging back near the door as if she was staving off a reaction.

Almost in that same instant, Bartholomew stood. "Serah?" he called, heading through the doorway into the adjacent room. "I had a few questions for you…" His voice cut off as he shut the door behind him.

_I have to remember to thank those two._

The downside to being alone in the treatment room with Lightning was Hope's lack of a good response. It was so much easier when there was something he could _do_, not just say, particularly when unable to think straight. In the end, all he could manage was a weak, "Hey, Light," and a smile.

In a few quick strides, Lightning crossed from the door to the bedside, but instead of tackling him in a hug, she simply put her fingers to his neck, feeling the pulse – _probably __concerned __by __the __speed__ –_ before she moved that hand to his cheek and forehead. Still not satisfied, Lightning sat on the edge of the bed, took his face in her hands and studied it. Hope wasn't sure what she expected to find, but he squirmed under that gaze like an ant under a magnifying glass. After a few seconds, he gave up and stared back directly.

"Pretty sure my _soul_ is in good condition," he said nervously, and she blinked, lowering her hands to rest on his shoulders and backing off a bit, but still looking unsure.

Lightning took a breath and looked down. "Hope," she began, barely above a whisper, "did you mean what you said, before…" She shifted uncomfortably.

"Yes." Hope did not hesitate, but fear set in once again at reaffirming it.

Not that Lightning was scared away, to his relief. If anything, when she looked up, the intensity behind her expression had increased.

"Then don't _ever_ keep something like this from me again. From _any_ of us." Her voice had started strong, but it wavered at the end – the watery rims under her eyes just about crushed him.

_No. __Light __can_not _cry._

Hope lifted her hands from his shoulders and pulled her in the remaining distance, resting her head against his neck and holding her there. Warm tears hit his skin and ran down, making everything within him cry out to apologise, but that was not what Lightning needed or wanted.

"I won't," he said, "I promise."

Barely shifting a centimeter from her position against him, Lightning dragged the rest of herself, boots and all, up onto the covers and stayed put. "Good," she mumbled. Her breathing slowed as she relaxed, and they remained in comfortable silence.

How had things ever been so complicated in the first place? Hope found his reflections intertwining with one another, cause and effect feeding into the next cause and effect, like the pattern felt as he absently traced Lightning's arm band. The fall of Cocoon, the military split, the virus, the search for his dad, Lightning's delayed awakening… all the conditions that had started off their current mission, painful as they had been, somehow created the opportunity for _this_ moment. He had a sudden, powerful urge to know what she was thinking.

"Light?" he asked several minutes later, but there was no response. She had drifted off.

Hope had just laid her head onto the pillow, smiling at the way her lips pouted slightly as he moved her, when Serah came back into the room with Sazh. She gave Hope a wide-eyed, questioning look, mouth open to disturb the silence, and he immediately put a finger to his lips and shook his head. Sazh raised an eyebrow but otherwise looked immensely relieved to see Hope awake.

Shrugging at their reactions, Hope grinned sleepily and settled back against the pillows himself. It wasn't as if their friends hadn't assumed more intimate situations before – both founded and unfounded. Lightning would wake up before long, freak out, and probably bolt from the scene, but for the life of him, he couldn't care less. She deserved that moment of peace. Not that his father would take it much better than Lightning herself.

_Whatever – I can choose my own methods of recovery. Screw the rest._

* * *

Endnote: Hope's stats were based on my younger brother :D Also, and I wanted to include this in the opening notes, exchange transfusions ARE rare in adults, but can be used as a more extreme measure for certain types of diseases, particularly those affecting the blood (like Sickle Cell).


	18. There to Sit

A/N: Apologies for this being a day late, but TRUST me, this edition of Endnote Humor gave me stomach cramps from glorious laughter and will be worth the wait! Aside from that, I greatly enjoyed this chapter, and the reason it's late is because I spent the week with my veeeery distracting husband, and thus could not get out of the opening scene. I seriously wanted to stay there :P When I finally did get out, the rest of the chapter flew by! So please enjoy, and REVIEW :D One little note of info before you go:

*Jet injector: the actual name of that god-forsaken gun they use to give you shots (OUCH!); if you have never experienced this, you've never been to Navy boot camp. What's more, this device was DESIGNED to LESSEN the pain of normal shots. Nice job there, lab rats of the medical variety. Don't quit your day jobs :P

Disclaimer: Square Enix owns it all, but they would never have taken it as far as my beta-roomie did!

(revised 01OCT11)

There to Sit (while you pray)

_What time is it?_

Lightning rolled over in her barely-conscious state, anticipating the extra space of bed, the other pillow, or perhaps – according to some far removed but persistent notion – Hope. Eyes still firmly shut, she distantly wondered why the alarm clock hadn't sounded, stretching out a hand toward its familiar position on the cluttered bedside table. If it could be called a table, considering the bunker's 'utilitarian' furnishings.

Those thoughts in mind, the hard floor smacking against her left side as she slid off the edge was that much more jarring. She blinked, rubbing her elbow from the impact, and took in the surroundings.

_Right. This isn't the bunker – I'm on the couch._

While Hope spent his week of recovery close-by for Serah's supervision, a few of the others had taken up a rotating schedule of 'watches' in his apartment on the end of the street: Sazh in the mornings, Bartholomew in the afternoon to evening, and herself overnight. Snow generally came with Serah for check-ups during the day, or occasionally to bring food along with his cheeriness and jibes.

Despite the arrangement being most efficient for everyone's daily obligations, it had been a strange four days so far, mainly because Lightning realised quickly how awkward it was to take over the shift from Bartholomew for the night. She always made a point of setting her things up around the couch, pulling out linens and the pillow from day one to make a bed of it, and actually took the initiative to sleep there. It would put Bartholomew at ease and ensure that Hope got decent sleep, Lightning continually told herself, but in reality she was hesitant to cross that invisible line – incidentally falling asleep with him once on a grass mat in a hut, then again on a roof in the trees, and even napping on the clinic bed were _not_ the same. Not to say those incidents hadn't made an impression; that last one had been the reason she still felt the need to appease Hope's father.

_Can't blame him for the assumption._

Disentangling herself from the blanket that had remained twisted around her in the fall, Lightning sat up and checked her watch. It was 0607. She was going to be late for the six-thirty mission debrief.

She cursed under her breath and got to her feet, scrambling around the now less-empty living room in search of her uniform articles – they were nowhere to be found. Late or otherwise, there was no way Lightning could justify showing up to official business in tank top and shorts. She recalled having changed after a shower, and immediately rushed to the bookcase, swinging it open. The only bathroom was in the basement. Running down the stairs in the near darkness, she turned the corner and collided with her second obstacle of the morning.

Hope was knocked to the floor with a thud, limbs sprawling.

"Ouch…" he groaned, and Lightning hastily leaned down, apologising as she pulled him to his feet. She guided him the few steps to the side of the bed and switched on the lamp. He couldn't have been awake for any amount of time – his t-shirt was still hiked up on one side above the line of his boxers.

"Light, you have incredible timing," Hope muttered, blinking in the sudden brightness. "I _almost_ survived getting up."

"No, my timing is making me late. And why _are_ you up? Serah said you needed as many consecutive hours of sleep as possible for the first five nights." Her sister had been monitoring brain readouts during his REM cycles for irregular levels of activity in the formerly infected regions; she had gone so far as to give him a mild sedative every evening. Now, the wired sensors lay strewn across the pillow.

Fighting to stay standing in his sleepy condition, Hope gave a mumbled reply. "I heard a crash upstairs," he said, stretching. "You know, you wouldn't keep falling off the couch if you didn't insist on sleeping there." His crooked smile and messy hair sticking out all over the place made Lightning want to attack him in a hug and choke him simultaneously for bringing that up again, but her mental schedule wouldn't so much allow for that kind of distraction.

Lightning gently pushed him back onto the covers. "Look, just… stay down. I have to be out of here in ten minutes." Walking around the bed, she grabbed her uniform on its hanger and entered the bathroom.

"Sure thing. At this point, I'm better trained than _Snuggles_," Hope said sulkily as she closed the door.

Quite possibly setting a new record, Lightning was dressed and charging back into the bedroom in under five minutes, looking for her gunblade. After a quick search yielded no results, she turned to Hope.

"Please tell me you've seen my gunblade," she said, frustrated.

Hope rolled onto his side and propped his head up with a hand. "Didn't you take— Wait, I remember." He sat up lazily and reached under the pillow, pulling out the familiar holster.

"What was it doing there?" Lightning asked in disbelief, grabbing the weapon to strap it on.

Shrugging, Hope simply replied, "You left it on the floor, so I picked it up." He seemed far too suspicious, and Lightning went immediately to the pillow, fishing around underneath it herself. Sure enough, a tiny toolkit was buried in the bottom of the pillowcase. She set the kit on the bed and crossed her arms.

"How did you get this?" Lightning's eyes narrowed accusingly.

Hope gulped. "It was just a one-time trip to the bunker, no big deal—"

"_When_?" she asked, becoming increasingly enraged.

"Last night." He caught on and kept it to the point. No excuses.

_How on Pulse…? Nevermind. There's just enough time for damage control._

"Great," Lightning huffed, "I'm already late, and you don't seem to be taking this recovery _seriously_. I'm calling Serah." She picked up the radio from the nightstand and dialed it to the proper channel.

Instantly alert, Hope jumped up, grabbing her hand and trying to pry the transceiver free. "Please don't, Light," he insisted. "Serah doesn't need to worry about anything else right now. Everyone wants me to _rest_, but I was bored out of my mind! Just go to the meeting – I swear I won't leave the house again."

"You've got _that_ right," Lightning snapped as she jerked back against his grip with partial strength, succeeding only in spinning him around and backing herself into the bed. Continuing to struggle for the transceiver, she grossly underestimated the power behind her next pull – that or _over_estimated his weak resistance – and fell backward, taking Hope down with her.

Stunned by the weight pinning her to the covers and the closeness of his face, Lightning almost relinquished her hold on the transceiver between them as she froze, her aggravation doggedly refusing to be squashed to pulp under those pleading green eyes. As if the whole situation wasn't uncomfortable enough, there was one other factor she would rather have not noticed, but couldn't exactly help it with him straddled over her leg.

_Oh _please _tell __me __that__'__s __just __a __morning __thing._

"Hope, let me _up_," she said threateningly, masking the slightest hint of panic but unable to cover a feverish blush.

He chuckled, wriggling an arm free to wrap around her tense shoulders and pulling her upright, then to her feet. "Okay," Hope said with a grin, but instead of immediately being released, Lightning felt his lips move from temple, to cheek, to chin as he teased the radio free from her grasp and finally backed off. Like before, it seemed he had given that extra ten percent more to _being_ a distraction than she had given in her one hundred percent effort to avoid it. She could no longer support her anger – no more than Jell-o could support a lead weight.

"I win," Hope said a little smugly.

"Congratulations," Lightning muttered, face still heated as she smoothed out her uniform and readjusted the holster strap, and then rushed up the stairs. She blew past Sazh on the way out of the apartment, earning a quizzical look from the man holding the door open for her.

"Get Serah over here, and don't let him _out_," Lightning called over her shoulder as she took off down the street at a jog, then a run. She heard Sazh yell back, "Whatever you say," amusement clear in his tone.

* * *

Debriefs had never been Lightning's favorite part of a mission. They unfailingly involved giving one's official, painstakingly detailed rendition of the information everyone important had already received through initial reports. The only thing more bothersome than that scenario was going through a debrief after bursting into a room full of superiors and other involved personnel when flushed, breathless, and worst of all, late. Lightning had no intention of explaining.

"My apologies, sirs," she said as calmly as possible, having come to attention immediately upon entry. Major Nooj merely regarded her unaffectedly over his spectacles, looking up from the papers in his hands, and then moved right along.

"Have a seat, Sergeant Farron," he said evenly. "I have a training exercise in two hours, so let's get down to business." Lightning had never been more grateful. She could already see from the expressions on Gippal's and Snow's faces that things would have started off on the wrong foot if either of them had been in charge. The lieutenant, for one, knew Hope quite well as a protégé, and she blamed that connection on the mischievous smile he had given her. Neither of them could hold a candle to Bartholomew's look of accusation, however.

_I__'__m _still _pushing __my __luck __with __him._

Approaching the conference table, Lightning took a seat next to Snow, pushing aside the morning's issues and varying expressions all around to mentally prepare her responses regarding the mission's specifics.

The debrief began with a general overview of the mission, getting down to details in less than fifteen minutes. Once prompted, Lightning recounted everything she could think of, from the day of departure with Commander Vargus to their time spent within PSICOM Central – including a rough layout of the main facility's interior from memory – and finally their imprisonment in the sulfur mine. Via radio link, holes in the account were filled by the commander, or from the point of their captivity on were supplemented by Sergeant Lucil from the recovery end of the mission. The entire rescue team and collection of former prisoners stationed at the Sector 49 outpost took part in the debrief remotely, in order to get the most comprehensive overview possible. Any details about PSICOM's operations could potentially be used to the advantage of the resistance, but that fact couldn't make the debrief less tiring.

Partway through the segment on the rescue, Lieutenant Baralai brought up an important question. "Did anyone discover PSICOM's intent behind the mining operation?" he asked, and Lightning zoned back into the conversation.

"They needed sulfur," a voice said over the radio; Lightning quickly recognised it as belonging to the miner who had bargained with her to escape.

"We know that," Baralai began, only a miniscule amount of annoyance betraying itself in his tone, "but we need to know _why_. Identify yourself."

Shuffling could be heard over the airwaves, likely as others made way for the miner to get close to the transmitter. "Sorry about that, Sir," he said. "I'm just a civilian mine worker – name's Clasko." After a brief pause, he continued hesitantly. "A-and the reason PSICOM is mining for sulfur, from what I overheard, is that they want to make fungicide out of it. That's all I know."

"Fungicide?" Baralai remained in thought, wrapping his head around the information.

Apparently in no mood to wait for him or anyone else to come to the right conclusion, Lucil spoke up over the transmitter. "With the amount of sulfur they appear to be mining, Sir, it's safe to assume that PSICOM plans to combat the source of the Focus strain virus."

"By wiping out mushrooms?" Gippal cut in, bewildered. "There's no way they could kill it off like that – not for good."

Snow looked about ready to leap up on the table. "That isn't even the main problem!" he practically shouted. "The villagers' remedy that Serah's been working with is made from those mushrooms!"

From there, the debrief dissolved into chaos for nearly a full minute. Clasko cursed over the radio at the revelation, and many voices could be heard at both locations exclaiming in outrage about PSICOM's scheme, questions flying here and there over why they hadn't even bothered to investigate the cure Commander Vargus delivered, only to be answered by several agitated teammates at once.

"Silence!" the major finally commanded, and all mouths snapped shut. "We don't have any definitive proof of PSICOM's plan, likely as it seems, and even then there's no telling how long it will take for them to develop and distribute such a fungicide. Does anyone know how long that mine has been in operation?"

Commander Vargus' voice came in clear over the radio. "According to the shift schedules, it's been operational since the middle of last year. That's more than sufficient time for them to have accumulated enough sulfur and produced enough chemical to carry out a large-scale extermination."

It felt as if the group collectively took in a breath at the commander's words, a practically inaudible gasp at the imminence of the threat. Even Major Nooj did not seem prepared to respond.

_Does he not see the indication in this? They've exposed a weakness._

Lightning broke the silence, attempting to dispel the heavy mood. "If I may, Sir," she began, continuing at the wave of the major's hand, "this can work _for_ us. From everything Commander Vargus has told me, and from all I've seen and heard around PSICOM Central, I am convinced that their entire command is at a breaking point. They can't handle the growing number of virus cases in the settlement, and maybe not even in their own ranks – if anything, this badly-conceived plan to stop the virus by eliminating the source is further proof of the desperate state they're in."

"That's an optimistic notion," Nooj replied doubtfully, "but we can't base our actions on speculation. It's unlike you to disregard that fact. Are you suggesting that we _wait__this__out_, Sergeant Farron, and see if their forces collapse despite attempts to kill off the material for our new remedy?" It was the closest to an emotional reaction she had ever seen from the man – a cold, cutting skepticism.

Floundering for a response, Lightning stammered, "No, no Sir, that was not my intention."

"Then I suggest we consider what we _know_, and work toward a realistic solution." His voice held a note of finality. The sergeant felt as though she had been soundly, but unfairly, beaten in a battle.

_He __makes _me _look __like __an __idealist. __How __did __this __man __ever __consider __Hope__'__s __outrageous __plan __before? __Does __he __trust __Serah__'__s __expertise __that __much?_

Unable to get her thoughts together and come back with a good defense, Lightning was at a loss, but thankfully, someone else saw through to the heart of her words.

"It isn't speculation. I know for a fact that PSICOM is in a critically vulnerable position." Bartholomew spoke confidently over the whispers following the major's shut-down approach.

Nooj looked almost intrigued. "By all means, tell us what you know, Mr. Estheim."

"What I discovered is to be expected," Bartholomew said, "but the details are startling. In my time in between and within several holding facilities and mines, I heard numerous accounts from guards and civilian workers about the viral epidemic, but during our final transfer to the sulfur mine, one report in particular struck me. On the way through Central's out-processing section, I overheard a disturbing, but almost certainly verifiable, conversation between the doctor on staff and his colleague – it sounds like they've done one thing right in mandatory preliminary testing to identify future victims, and for good reason. Based on those tests, over seventy percent of the settlement's population is infected, one-fourth of which are already at initial relapse stage, and the trend is almost exactly the same in PSICOM's ranks."

Lightning felt as though the air had been sucked from her lungs.

_Slowly __but __surely, __Cocoon__'__s __population __is _dying_._

Shock enveloped the group. Voices from the upper floor of the building were louder and clear as a bell as they floated down into the pin-drop-silent room. When Bartholomew spoke again, the volume of his voice, despite being barely above normal, jolted everyone from thought.

He simply concluded, "So trust me when I say that they desperately need this cure, more than they need to go through with the extermination, or even need to hold out in this conflict."

Lieutenant Baralai seemed more thoughtful and less disturbed than the rest of the group. "Have you reported this to Serah?"

"No. I made up my mind to tell the leadership first – news like this tends to cause panic, or even subversion," Bartholomew replied.

"Then she needs to be informed," Baralai said, "and we will need volunteers from the force for faster production of the new remedy, at least until anything better is developed. Major, I don't think we can afford to wait any longer to negotiate with PSICOM, not in light of this information."

Nooj nodded, but he seemed to still be processing the implications. "Commander Vargus," he called over the radio, "we're going to need your assistance."

"Yes, Sir," Vargus answered. "Do you have anything specific in mind?"

"Not yet; we will have to consult later tonight. This debrief, for its intended purpose, is over. You, Commander, will join the staff in charge on the radio at 1900 for that discussion. Everyone else, thank you for your excellent work on this mission, and you are all dismissed," the major directed.

Vargus gave a sharp, "Roger that, Sir," before shutting off the radio connection. The click of their transmitter going off the air served to signal the on-site group to get moving.

The still-stunned collection of participants stood to their feet and began to drift out of the basement conference room, nearly-tangible anxiety hanging heavy in the air. Lightning took the opportunity to catch Bartholomew after they had exited the building.

"Excuse me," she called, jogging over to him. Stopping in his tracks, he turned to her, expressionless. Lightning could only guess that he was not yet on the defensive based on his casual posture, one hand in his pocket as though he were wearing a suit.

"Yes, Sergeant Farron?" Bartholomew inquired politely, and Lightning wished for the hundredth time since the day Hope had woken up that they could just clear the air and cut the forced courtesy.

Lightning hid her exasperation and said sincerely, "I wanted to thank you, for backing me up in there. I know I deserved to be called out for making assumptions, but it's good to know my intuition wasn't off." She paused, waiting for a response.

Half-smiling, Bartholomew dropped his façade a bit. "It needed to be said," he began, taking off his glasses and cleaning them. "And speaking of things that need to be said, we really should discuss this… situation with Hope. Continuing to avoid it makes me just as inconsiderate toward you as the major. I'm not a fan of hypocrisy."

"O-okay," Lightning stuttered, caught off guard. She hated feeling so nervous, particularly when she had done nothing wrong. "Would you mind just telling me your concerns?"

_I'd rather not fish around for them. The shorter this talk, the better, with less chance for me to screw up._

"Alright," he said nonchalantly, "then let me be frank. Are you sleeping with my son?"

She struggled over the best way to answer – he probably wasn't being literal, but Lightning took that into consideration. "Not currently, no."

"So you _were_?" Bartholomew, to his credit, actually sounded surprised, though not pleasantly.

_Wrong answer._

"No, no," Lightning quickly corrected, feeling the tingle of a blush forming, "that isn't what I meant. Technically, we _have_ slept in the same place a couple of times before – the last thing I want is to be dishonest."

He looked like he might laugh out loud. "Of course," he said, covering the subsequent chuckle with a cough. "Then I'll be more direct – are you in a sexual relationship?"

"Again, not currently." As soon as she said it, Lightning momentarily wished she had gone with a standard 'no' and been done with it, but some urge within her wanted to make a point to Bartholomew that her relationship with Hope was just that – _hers_. Not his, not Snow's or Serah's, and it wasn't necessarily anyone else's business what went on between them, regardless of family ties. In spite of her own inhibitions, Lightning was through with ducking and dodging the curiosity of everyone around them, and she wanted to make it known.

For once, she was undeterred by the shocked silence on Bartholomew's end. "And if the status of our relationship changes later on, you will _know_. Don't bother asking again," Lightning said definitively, and she turned to go to Serah's house for a late breakfast.

"Lightning, wait," he called from behind her, and she faced him once more, if only because he used her first name as originally requested. "I'm not asking because I want to meddle in your business or control Hope's decisions, but I am _concerned_ for my son."

"So," Lightning replied harshly, "you think I'm wrong for him, or that I will hurt him, am I right?"

"No, not necessarily, I just—_ugh_, I wish it were easier to take all of this in!" Bartholomew finally admitted, giving up his collected approach. "I'm having a difficult time dealing with all these changes, and Hope is so crazy about you… I missed the part where he grew up, didn't get to see all his insecurities and help him deal with everything. Now that I _am_ here, he doesn't seem to need me anymore. But he very clearly needs you, and if there is even the slightest doubt in your mind, anything that would lead you to break his heart, I feel that it's my responsibility to look out for his well-being, whether he wants my help or not."

He was serious as the grave, and while Lightning was touched by his genuine concern – and pleased to see that it wasn't just parental paranoia over the concept of sex – she wasn't quite sure whether she could provide the reassurance he needed or not. Her own adjustment to Hope was itself still in process. Rubbing nervously at the sweat that had begun to tickle the back of her neck, she ran a finger over the back of the pendant's chain.

_I'm not sure about love, or if I would know it when it hit me, but Hope is more than just my friend, and certainly not some fleeting infatuation. Maybe that's enough._

Lightning pulled the pendant out from the neck of her shirt, letting the flecks of color bask in and reflect the morning sun. Toying with it as she fought the uneasiness bubbling in her stomach, she said quietly, "I'm sure you recognise this."

Jaw dropping in astonishment, Bartholomew reached toward the stone, and Lightning placed it in his hand. "Where did you…? _How_…? I never thought I would see this again." The man was transfixed on the necklace, but she tried to answer his half-questions regardless.

"Hope gave it to me, along with a tracking device," she explained, turning it over to show him the tiny bulb in its back. "He'd kept it since we visited your home in Palumpolum."

"No wonder," Bartholomew began, still gazing at the pendant, "Hope chose to keep _this_ over every other thing Nora owned. He would have remembered it from his childhood – I gave it to her as a gift the day he was born."

At that, the weight of the object around Lightning's neck seemed to increase exponentially. She suddenly knew, more than when he had given her the necklace, more than when he told her he loved her, even more than his reaffirmation of those words, that it was undeniable. Hope had absolutely fallen for her. She was overwhelmed.

"Oh…" Lightning managed, but her heart was stuck in her throat, warmth spreading throughout until it reached her fingertips and she wanted to do something crazy, run until she reached the ocean and dive into the waves, or at least run back to the apartment and dive into Hope's arms.

When she looked back up, Bartholomew's expression had changed entirely to one of understanding and care. He smiled warmly, pulling her into a hug. "I'm pretty sure Hope's heart is around your neck," he said as he let go, lifting the pendant once more and letting it fall. "Take good care of it."

"I will," Lightning said tremulously. "I have to go." She ran from the scene, winding back through the buildings and clusters of people just beginning to filter into the commercial sector and down the street toward the apartment beside the 'CONDEMNED' sign.

_I have to tell him. Before I lose my nerve._

* * *

"Boy, put some _clothes_ on," Sazh insisted, throwing a pair of sweats at Hope. "If you're gonna be walkin' around, and there's a woman in the house, you _will_ be dressed. Clear?"

Hope was still flustered, having just dealt with another unorthodox encounter with Lightning, and at an early hour to boot, followed by an even more trying explanation to Sazh in the aftermath which brought on inordinate aggravation from the usually upbeat man. Hope sat on the edge of the bed, sweats lying unheeded in a wad to his right, the incriminating tool kit to his left.

"I just woke up!" he exclaimed, in no mood for a lecture. "And this is _my_ _house_. If I wanted to walk around naked, I could!"

"Not on _my_ watch. And if you ask me, Lightning reserves the right to kick your sorry ass for sneaking out when you were s'posed to be monitored by the sensors overnight." Sazh refused to let up. "Scratch that – _Serah_ oughtta have the honor, but you'd feel the pain if Light got ahold of you."

_Is this supposed to be discouraging?_

Hope collapsed backward onto the bed with a huff. "Sazh, don't get me wrong – I love you, but you're _not_ my father. Let it go."

That seemed to get Sazh's attention, but his response wasn't what Hope anticipated. "You're absolutely right," he said with a grin, "so we'll 'let it go' for a few hours. Maybe your _real_ dad'll go easy on you."

_Shoot me now._

"I'm sorry, okay?" Hope said to the ceiling, exasperated. "I get it! I never should have left the house."

Sazh cut in. "How _did_ you get out, anyway? Lightning's got trained ears, and you're not what I'd call 'stealthy'."

"Thanks for that vote of confidence," Hope muttered sarcastically, raising one hand in a mocking thumbs-up. "I used the basement exit." He pointed that thumb over his head to the bathroom, not bothering to sit up. "There's a pull-down ladder in the ceiling panel."

Rushing into the bathroom, Sazh stood on the sink and pulled the barely-visible handle to lower the stairs. "This is the most confounding apartment I've ever seen," he declared, closing the panel before he stepped off the sink and dusted his hands. Viewing the scene from an upside-down perspective was disconcerting, so Hope gave up and looked back at the ceiling in contemplation.

_What else am I in for today? Either the stars are out of alignment, or the entire command is somehow on the same 'castration cycle.'_

The sound of the front door flying open upstairs met Hope's ears, followed by light, rapid footsteps to the bookcase and the creak of its hinges.

"You called Serah, huh," Hope said, defeated.

"Just following orders." Sazh checked his watch, as if measuring the seconds to Hope's imminent demise.

Serah rapidly came into view from the stairs. "What _happened_?" she said breathlessly, concern in every feature. It dissolved once she saw the look on Sazh's face.

"She's all yours, Hope," Sazh said, whistling as he strolled past Serah and up the stairs.

_Must be the 'castration cycle' option._

* * *

Twenty minutes of explanations, arguments, the tossing of his tool kit and three near-panic attacks on Serah's part later, Hope was pleasantly surprised to still be able to hold his head up after the guilt trip she sent him on. In the end, they had reached a compromise – meaning, essentially, he gave in to her demands. She was the one with the needle.

"Be _still_," Serah insisted, and he took a breath, focusing on a tiny water stain on the ceiling. It was fair, completely deserved; instead of the mild sedative capsule she normally gave him for natural sleep, she was using a stronger one this time to induce a 'nap' that would make up for the lost night of monitoring. Had anything changed in the last twenty-four hours, Serah wanted to catch it as soon as possible.

That didn't make Hope any less uneasy about the needle held aloft, at the ready to puncture his arm. In his defense, he had been unconscious most other times shots had been administered, and in this particular instance he'd made the mistake of _looking_ at the thin, metal bringer-of-pain. Every uncomfortable memory of childhood experience mingled with more recent ones to flood his head with anxiety.

_I'm going to be sick._

Serah held his arm, but when the needle had barely made contact with his skin, Hope jerked away again.

"So _help_ me, Hope," she threatened, "I _will _make you flip over and use the jet injector on your stubborn butt if you don't stay still!"

_Sazh __was __wrong. __Lightning __might __seem __more __intimidating, __but __Serah __would _ torture _me __if __given __the __chance. __In __fact, __she __already __is._

Clenching his fists around the covers, Hope squeezed his eyes shut and took a few deep breaths, praying it would be a more effective method and that the shot wouldn't sting too badly.

Serah rolled his t-shirt sleeve up off the shoulder again. But this time, instead of ordering him to stay still or relax or breathe, she just started talking as she kneaded the site to loosen the tensed muscle. "So, Hope," she began, "I heard an interesting rumor."

"What was it?" he asked, still keeping his eyes closed.

"Nothing too surprising," Serah continued, "but Maqui let slip some details about that 'tracking device' you gave my sister. Something about a necklace."

Unsure how much he really ought to betray, Hope went along a different track. "Do you think a bracelet would have been more practical?" he asked, grateful that he couldn't see her expression.

"No," she answered innocently, rubbing a cold alcohol pad over his arm. "I have a personal preference for necklaces. Snow didn't use one to _track_ me or anything high-tech, but he certainly made me partial toward them." Hope heard the indicative tone of her voice and the metallic rustle of the silver components on her own necklace being shaken lightly. Serah began to methodically pinch up and loosen the skin and muscle of his arm again.

"Just getting rid of the tension. I'll let you know when the shot's coming," she said in a calm voice.

Hope's nerves returned, so he tried to keep the conversation going. "Why are you so interested in the tracking device," he asked.

"Maqui made it sound much more 'special' that your run-of-the-mill technology," Serah said, her voice nearly begging for elaboration. "But I can always ask Sis later, I guess." She kneaded harder into the muscle, and he began to wonder if bruises would result.

Trying to formulate a response over the next few seconds, Hope found that his thoughts were not clear. He felt tired. "Why does it matter?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Why does what matter?" Serah asked, her tone strangely placating, as if she were talking to a child.

"Mom's necklace. You seem so… curious about it."

"Oh," Serah said. It was short and serious. "Maqui didn't tell me it was _hers_."

_Great. I can't seem to keep anything to myself. And why am I so tired? Is she ever going to give me that stupid shot?_

"Just… sedate me… now," Hope slurred, still vigilantly refusing to open his eyes. If he saw that needle, all his hard concentration would be for nothing. It had to be coming – she had stopped prepping the site a short time before.

The last thing he heard before nodding off was Serah's voice as she softly explained, "I already did."

_How crafty of you, Sis._

* * *

**Endnote: So yeah, my beta seriously outdid herself this time. I knew I had given her ludicrous amounts of material to work with, but my gut was still not prepared for the workout it got when I read this masterpiece of humor too inappropriate to ever appear in my fic. That said, beware.**

**The ****Awkward ****Conversation ****of ****Awkward**

Bartholomew:

So, I've been meaning to ask. Are you banging my son?  
**Lightning:** oh dear god what.  
**Bartholomew:** You know. Banging. Dancing the horizontal tango. Bumping uglies. Getting laid. Making loooooove. Dancing in the sheets. Hopping on the wild pony. Doing the mattress mambo-  
**Lightning:**O.o  
**Bartholomew:** Dancing the mommy-daddy dance. Parking the beef bus in tuna town. Doing some two-person push-ups. Taking ol' one-eye to the optometrist. Vulcanizing the whoopee stick. Dipping the pen in the ink. Making some-  
**Lightning:** OKAY SERIOUSLY HOW MANY OF THESE DO YOU KNOW?  
**Bartholomew:** ...  
**Lightning:** SRSLY WTF.  
**Bartholomew:**...having intercourse.  
**Lightning:** No, we're not doing any of that. But he did give me your dead wife's old necklace as a symbol of his undying love. Also as a symbol of his mild stalker tendencies.  
**Bartholomew:** Ah, yes, he got the stalker tendencies from me. On a related note, please let me know when you two do finally park the Plymouth in the garage of love, so I can update my journal. You have to understand, I missed out on my son's entire teenage life. Think of all the sexual milestones I missed documenting for him!  
**Lightning:** ...I don't think I could be any more creeped out than I am right now.  
**Bartholomew:** If you could provide visual evidence, that would be really helpful.  
**Lightning:**I STAND CORRECTED.


	19. Fix You

A/N: Okay, so first I apologise for the lateness of this chapter, and second…because it's RIDICULOUSLY long! But I worked so hard on it, and it was SO much fun, so I really really want to know what everyone thinks :D Please REVIEW! Thanks again to those of you who have been reviewing so far – it helped me stay on the lookout for issues and get my bearings again. There will be an epilogue to this story, so don't go away disappointed that this is the final chapter :P I'm not quite through screwing with my characters yet. OH, and one more thing:

* I borrowed the names of Sabin and Baram from FFVI, but please do not think of the characters they are based on AT ALL when reading. This was inspired by the completely coincidental discovery that Vargus is the name of another character from that game (though his spelling is Vargas) – something I found out AFTER using the name. My reasoning behind using Vargus initially was because it's the name of a particularly douche-y superior my spouse had to deal with :P

Disclaimer: Square Enix owns these characters, but their imagination is sorely lacking.

(revised 01OCT11)

Fix You (from the start)

Lightning burst into the apartment, heading straight for the bookcase. She barely noticed Sazh lounging on the couch.

_Please don't let it be too late._

"Slow down, girl!" he called over his shoulder. "Serah's already here, as requested."

Pausing with the bookcase half-open, she wasted no time on conversation. "Thanks," Lightning said hastily, swinging it wide and rushing down to the basement. Knowing her sister, it wouldn't be long before Hope was down for the count.

"Serah!" she said, panting at the base of the stairs, "please tell me you didn't…"

But she clearly had. Her sister looked back at Lightning from her seat on the edge of the bed, empty syringe in hand, and gave her an innocent, questioning look. Hope lay peacefully under the covers, chest rising and falling in sleep.

"You wanted me over to handle this, right? Hope told me all about his little escape, so I thought…"

"No, I mean yes, it's just—" Lightning stammered, pinching the bridge of her nose and taking a breath to hopefully start over coherently. "Sorry. I didn't think he'd already be out."

"Hmm," Serah said, beginning to smile as she stood and popped the needle off into a disposal bag, placing the rest of the syringe on the bedside table. "Well, he is, and he will be for a while." She looked up at Lightning, and her eyes widened and sparkled with curiosity. "Oh Maker, is that the necklace?"

Instinctively, Lightning's hand flew up to cover the pendant. "You mean the tracking device?"

"That is _some_ 'tracking device'," Serah enunciated, "but you know all about how special it is, don't you, Sis?"

Lightning knew she was blushing, but it was far too late for covering up. "Yeah, I know." She turned and hurried back up the stairs, unable to face Serah's questions, and even less able to vent her feelings to Hope.

_I can't get anything right today._

* * *

"Don't look at this as arbitrary duty, Farron," Lucil said with a smirk. "Think of it as a golden opportunity to smack some heads." She thrust the clipboard and whistle into Lightning's unwilling hands.

_One of these days, woman…_

Lightning would have given anything to be in on the negotiations, but when it came down to it, there were simply too many other people involved since earlier in the conflict that needed to have input, and someone had to take charge for the week to keep the newly combined outpost force in line. She knew it was, in fact, a compliment that Lucil had immediately suggested her.

The sergeant clapped a hand on Lightning's shoulder. "Don't look so pissed about this, seriously," she said, obviously trying not to laugh. "I promise you'll be getting detailed reports, which is a pretty awesome deal. You could have been stuck back at the base training the masses, but now you get to stay out of a dull meeting _and_ hear the important parts!"

"Thanks," Lightning replied half-heartedly as she put the whistle's lanyard around her neck. It had been a long two weeks of remedy production at the main base and of discussions between both sides – the first in _years_ – via the outpost's radio tower before Commander Vargus was able to arrange a time and place for meeting with a PSICOM delegation to negotiate terms. The fact that anything got accomplished was incredible, but Lightning still felt the anxiety and annoyance inherent in the waiting game. Vargus was known to be missing, and known to be a 'traitor' of sorts, but in the end PSICOM had been more willing to work with one of their own as a go-between. The commander and a delegation from the rebel forces, comprised of Lieutenant Baralai, Sergeant Lucil, Snow, her sister, and of course, Hope as pilot, were already about to board the transport and rendezvous at a midway safe point by 1300. Bartholomew would have gone as well, but in such a sensitive situation, they didn't wish to draw attention to the fact that any of the other missing prisoners from the mine were actually with them.

To make matters worse, Lightning hadn't seen Hope more than twice since Serah finally released him – then, only in _passing_, a rushed greeting at best – and before that, he was so heavily sedated they couldn't even hold a conversation. Somehow, Hope was always repairing the ship or other equipment, or undergoing more medical tests on his condition for Serah's research log, or driving the transport, or a thousand other things that seemed to converge from the backlog that had built up during his sickness. And Lightning was bogged down with helping enforce a revamped conditioning regimen, since the major came to the conclusion that their forces needed to build up absolutely stellar combat-readiness if anything went awry with the negotiations, which meant staying in the barracks every night and running drills every day. The universe was against her, and Lightning hardly had time to think about what had made her so on edge that day she talked with Bartholomew – or what it was she intended to say to Hope. All that remained was tension.

Tension she couldn't quite redirect, even into drilling a bunch of hapless trainees.

"Here they come," Lucil said slyly. "No better motivation than pain! I just wish I could stick around to see this course broken in. I mean, they already know how to negotiate the obstacles from the practice run, but it's not the same as really going against the clock! So, ready for your grand introduction?"

Lightning's voice went flat. "Just make sure they understand that I take training seriously."

"Ha! Are you kidding?" Lucil tweaked an eyebrow at Lightning's no-nonsense expression. "I guarantee they'll get the message." She just laughed and pushed Lightning ahead of her, toward the edge of the field.

The victims had begun to gather, an entire squadron filing onto the grass, forming uneasily into ranks. Clearly, unit cohesion and morale still needed work. PSICOM sentries stood in a separate block formation from the GC soldiers, all with helmets in hand – while it appeared more professional to have matching uniforms on each side, it defeated the purpose of making a unified force.

_A few rounds of obstacles, and they won't care anymore._

"Atten-HUT!" Lucil yelled, strolling to the front. As she gave the group a once-over, Lightning was unable to help noticing a few less-than-proper expressions on some of the PSICOM members' faces.

_Let's add military bearing to the list of deficiencies._

The sergeant started into a typical opening speech. "Today's exercise is all about team-building. I know the last couple of weeks have been a tough transition, but you should all be proud of the hard work that went into supply inventories, temporary camp setup, and especially repairing this O-course. The commander was impressed." Several heads nodded approval in the ranks, and a few of the less-professional sentries straightened up at the mention of Vargus. After all that Lightning had said about the man during his interrogation, she found more and more that a tenacious loyalty did hold between the unit and himself.

"That said," Lucil continued, "I've got some bad news as well. Due to the ongoing negotiations, I won't be here to see you all run the course. But don't worry – it's happening." There was a collective sigh, and Lucil grinned, gesturing toward Lightning. "Sergeant Farron will be directing the evolution in my stead, as well as taking charge for the next few days. I'll give you all fair warning – keep it in _line_. And I'm not saying that because she'll report any infractions to me, which she _will_, or even because Commander Vargus will hear about it. I'm warning you that she'll kick your ass on the spot. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Sergeant!" the formation said in unison. Lightning stepped up as Lucil marched off to the transport. Stifling an impractical desire to run to that transport herself, she faced the assembled unit and refused to let the latent resentment in the PSICOM ranks get to her, but it was challenging. Mostly because she understood their position. Several of their comrades had died not even a month before, at least a couple of them by her own gunblade. This was an uneasy alliance – made possible by the resistance's efforts to save their commander, and ultimately, to save Cocoon's population. It would take time to truly be a single entity.

_It's incredible that they follow Lucil. I might not be so fortunate._

But the worst thing Lightning could possibly do was betray weakness. Maintaining a collected demeanor, she addressed them. "Alright! Each side, form a single-file line behind the starting posts. Helmets on the ground." Turning, she walked to the space between two sets of wooden poles which served as the O-course's entry points. When she faced them again, Lightning half-expected no one to have moved, but they did come, lining up behind each set of posts. That simple action was uplifting.

"This is a competition, but not between sides," she instructed. "You will work with your partner to get through the course as quickly as possible. If the completion time is over thirteen minutes, you both fail. And if both partners do not return to the start at the same time, it's an automatic fail. Failure means renegotiating the course. Any questions?"

A single hand went up in the GC line.

"Go ahead," Lightning ordered.

"Sergeant," he began, sounding concerned, "what if your partner cheats on an obstacle?" It was a fair question, considering how the path wound into the woods for several hundred meters before reemerging, and she couldn't possibly monitor it.

"You all know the proper way to negotiate this course," Lightning said sternly, "so I expect some integrity. Keep your partner in check, and _earn_the right to finish. If they cheat, have the guts to report it and take the fail. It's that simple. Any more questions?"

No one stirred. "Good. First pair, get in position," she called. "On my signal. Ready, set…" Lightning blew the whistle sharply, and then annotated the start time.

One after another, at three-minute intervals, all thirty pairs went through the course, and all of them failed for one reason or another. The second time through went more smoothly, but it took an intervention on one disputed cheating incident at the end of the round.

"He's a liar!" the soldier yelled to Lightning, gesturing furiously at his PSICOM partner. "I swear I climbed all the way to the end of the rope!"

The sentry stuck to his guns. "I_saw_ him skip the last knot! Sergeant Lucil said you had to touch the last knot for it to count as complete. Not that you're going to _believe_ me over him," he said, voice going cold.

"Any allegations count as a fail," Lightning finally replied, unmoved, "so you both have the privilege of doing it over a third time. Or, if one of you comes clean, I might reconsider, since your completion time was 12:23."

They both went silent, until several seconds later the PSICOM sentry slowly opened his mouth. "Sergeant, I—"

"No," the soldier interrupted. "He was right. I dropped off before the last knot." The shocked expression on the sentry's face was priceless.

Lightning could not have been more impressed. "I think I can make an exception. Take five, both of you." She returned to her post, preparing to begin the next round without another word.

After that, any remaining failures were strictly because of the time limit; not a single participant crossed the finish alone. Lightning dismissed them all at the end of the third round, pass or fail, with a brief but sincere compliment to their efforts. It had been a long afternoon.

Walking into the facility's main entrance, she went immediately to the control room. Maqui was still there, working side by side with the original comms operator and listening in on the beginning negotiations – the open mic feed was a new rig on the transport, specifically for recording that entire exchange.

"Off to a good start?" Lightning asked, sounding tired. Emotional exhaustion had begun to bleed over into the physical realm, and it annoyed her to no end.

"You're not gonna believe this," Maqui said apprehensively, "but they're escorting this PSICOM colonel's ship back to the outpost _now_. Sounds like he wouldn't even discuss _suggestions_ for terms until he met the major and saw the full stock of the remedy, and they aren't too comfortable with the idea of taking all that precious cargo off-site. Sazh is already preparing to fly Nooj over, and the medical transport's making arrangements, too."

Lightning felt her own internal warning system going off. Bringing the enemy into one's safe zone so soon wasn't a first choice, but at least they wouldn't be giving away the main base's undisclosed location by coming to a known PSICOM outpost – only the site's infrastructure and possibly materials or information would be at risk in an intelligence sense. Not that it wasn't cause for concern.

"We need to lock down this operation before they get in." Lightning's tone was dead serious. "How long until the transport arrives?"

"Five minutes, give or take," Maqui said, shrugging in defeat. "But this late in the day, I'm sure Lucil can get the PSICOM officials out of their ship and into a room somewhere for the evening without anything being compromised. And there's no way the commander would give anyone an inch to make trouble at his own outpost!"

Nodding in acknowledgment, Lightning gave one last order. "Tell Gadot to secure the weapons locker and the safe, then take down posted schedules; I'll be checking up on your status later." She left the room and exited the building to watch for the ships' arrival. Passing down last minute information about the delegation's impending visit would only make the soldiers in the unit overly anxious, increasing the likelihood of a slip-up. It was probably better that no one knew what was coming.

Shortly afterward, from the vantage point of her tent, Lightning watched the two aircraft fly overhead, noting the stark contrast between Hope's Pulsian-engineered transport with all its angular, functional bulk and the spindly, complicated but smooth design of the Cocoon ship trailing behind it. They continued on a course for the crash site, and Lightning belatedly realised their intention was to land away from the actual outpost. She took a deep breath of relief.

_That should buy enough time to get everything squared away._

Static buzzed over Lightning's radio fifteen minutes later, dispelling the calm, and she snatched the device from her belt. "Farron, do you read me?" Sergeant Lucil sounded more perturbed than anything, which was evident even over the mild interference.

"Loud and clear," Lightning replied. "What's the situation?"

Sighing heavily, Lucil laid it all out. "Landed at the crash site. We'll be there in forty-five minutes, at least if these arrogant bastards would quit wasting our time investigating the evacuation ship – like they've never seen a wreck before! – and get _moving_. It was their idea to come here in the first place!" She paused, but was obviously not finished.

"Forget all that. On your end, I need you to get a crew together to set up the last couple of barracks rooms with bedding, towels, whatever necessary to put up five people – two officer, three enlisted. And get that back conference room cleaned up and ready. We already planned on using it, but they weren't supposed to be visiting on day _one_ of these negotiations," Lucil huffed, getting worked up again.

It made Lightning wonder. There had to be more than those trivial matters of scheduling and inconvenience causing the sergeant's frustration. "Consider it done," she responded, "but what's the _real_ problem over there?"

"Don't worry about it," Lucil said quietly. "They're coming back, so I've gotta go. Over and out." The transceiver cut off from her end, and Lightning hurried back to the building to make the ordered preparations.

_Guess no one's life is in danger. Sounds manageable._

* * *

It was an hour later when the two delegations came into view across the field. Lightning and the three NORA members on post waited in front of the main facility, and as they approached, Lightning began to assess the situation from each individual's posture. Lieutenant Baralai and Commander Vargus headed the group, absolutely serious in full-military mode, followed by a cluster of equally stern PSICOM representatives, but Sergeant Lucil hadn't quite wiped away the last traces of her earlier anger – not from the deliberate stiffness in her gait, anyway. Snow and Serah provided additional indicators as they trailed uncomfortably just behind Lucil, and Hope looked like he wanted to disappear entirely. He purposely remained inconspicuous at the back of the group, hands in his pockets, and strangely, his turquoise bandanna tied over his head, covering most of his hair in a Snow-like fashion.

The commander began a typical formal introduction to the outpost as they closed in on the main building and Lightning's little crew. At attention, she saluted the commander, lieutenant, PSICOM colonel, and another PSICOM commander that accompanied him, receiving a lackluster return salute from the inferior visiting officer, not that Lightning had expected better. The other three PSICOM members were lower-ranking sentries, likely more body-guards than anything else. Once the official party entered the compound and began to circle around to the barracks structure, Lightning heard Vargus relaying information on the next day's arrival of both Major Nooj and the remedy stock, as well as arrangements for the night. Snow, Serah, and Hope stayed behind, themselves unnecessary to that part of the process. Falling out of attention, Lightning and the NORA members joined them, a barrage of questions threatening to burst through.

"What's with the bandanna?" Maqui immediately asked Hope, beating everyone to the punch with his curiosity.

He seemed reluctant to talk about it. "Is there a problem?"

"No, it's just weird, I guess." Maqui shifted his focus to Snow and Serah, who actually looked willing to converse. "So I guess this means we'll be setting up those extra tents…" he said, trailing off.

"Think we just need one," Serah said with forced cheeriness.

At the same time, Gadot was already on Snow's case. "So what changed? I listened to the whole recording, but I don't get why they altered the terms of negotiation after _starting _the negotiations!"

"Just a misunderstanding," Snow tried to explain, "about the arrangements. At first, it was apparently because Baralai's only a lieutenant, and second-in-command. When Vargus set everything up, he was kinda generic about which leader would be joining the negotiations, and Baralai honestly has more experience dealing diplomatically, so he didn't think the rank would give a bad impression to PSICOM."

"But it did." Yuj crossed his arms angrily. "That must've been the point where they insisted on changing other conditions, like the remedy supply. It's hard to catch all the nuances from audio alone."

Snow nodded. "Video feed would have said a lot more. Either way, here we are, and I say the faster we all get rested up for tomorrow, the better."

For her part, Lightning couldn't help but keep an eye on Hope, who looked like he wanted to bolt from the discussion the instant Snow had finished. Her sister didn't seem much better off herself, and she wondered what those two were hiding, yet again. As Snow and the other NORA members wandered off to get the tent and supplies, she turned to the more reliable source of clarification.

"Serah," Lightning called, and her sister looked up from involved thoughts with another forced smile.

"Hmm?"

"Tell me what's wrong."

Rubbing her arm nervously, Serah fumbled on her words. "It's not a big deal… I wanted more time to _explain_ our progress on the remedy, that's all. They expect me to show them this amazing treatment, and I feel like what we have now isn't good enough. I mean, they know we're still working on it, but it sounds like PSICOM's expectations are so _high._ That or the commander's rudeness is getting to me." She bit her lip, debating whether to continue by the look on her face.

While everything her sister had said was obviously sincere, Lightning knew there was something else lingering. She didn't want to press the issue further, however, and made an effort at reassurance.

"It will work out," Lightning said, taking her sister by the shoulders. "They don't have anything half as good as what you can offer. When you're in that conference room, the research and results will speak for themselves." Releasing Serah, she smiled in encouragement.

Serah's eyes suddenly widened as her hands flew to her head. "Oh no!" she exclaimed. "I forgot my file in the transport. I'd better run and get it before it's too dark."

"Not by yourself," Lightning said instantly, brow knit with concern. "I'll go with you."

Hope spoke up for the first time in several minutes. "Don't worry about it. I'm going over there now," he said quietly, no inflection to his tone. "I can give them to you in the morning, before the meeting."

"Oh," Serah replied. "I appreciate it, but would you like me to go with you anyway?" It was a token offering, as if she expected the refusal.

"No thanks." Hope turned to Lightning with a deliberately simple "See you later, Light," before he left, waving as he did so. Serah just shrugged and called out, "Don't forget – dinner's at 1900!" as an afterthought, herself intent on departing the scene, and Lightning wondered if her sister realised that Hope probably didn't plan on coming back to camp for the night. If his actions were any kind of parallel to her own, this was the sort of avoidance that required at least an overnight absence.

"Snow probably needs my help by now," Serah said brightly, hugging Lightning before walking off toward the field cluttered with tents, one of which would be her fiancé's. "See you at chow, Sis!"

Left standing alone in front of the compound, Lightning turned from watching her sister's departure to Hope's shrinking form in the distance and felt the former tension rising – still unresolved and promising at least one more night of fitful sleep populated by thoughts of Hope. And the ridiculous dreams, products of exhaustion, found her in the middle of training, or the depths of the mine, or even the village grotto searching for him, but she always woke up once she caught sight of him. Seeing him in the flesh for the first time in days just to have him walk away, particularly in a conflicted state, was near maddening.

_Screw avoidance. I'm not waiting this out._

Lightning took off after him, catching up to him partway down the path back to the crash site. "Hope!" she called, and he stopped, turning to face her.

"Need something, Light?" Hope half-smiled as he fiddled with the bandanna, but he looked weighed down. "Or couldn't it wait till dinner?"

She crossed her arms. "You expect me to believe that you planned on coming back tonight?"

Exhaling heavily, he stepped up to her. "I wanted some time to think," Hope said, "and if I'm around everyone, especially _you_, I just… can't. Didn't you once tell me that I had to focus on a goal and shut everything else out?" Lightning felt his glove on her shoulder, his thumb tracing her armband before his hand moved down the rest of the way to take her own. If the just-past-casual contact prickled the skin on the back of her neck, she didn't want to dwell on what he was feeling.

_Could be wrong, but I don't think this qualifies as 'shutting things out.'_

"What are you focusing on that's so important?" Lightning asked softly, her whole body in active resistance to any sort of reciprocation. He was not going to throw her off the topic.

Hope took her other hand, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "I'll tell you later," he breathed against her hair, and then released her hands as he turned to leave.

"After chow," Lightning said insistently, grabbing the back of the belt around his coveralls. "That gives you more than enough time to 'think.' I expect you on post, with a better outlook."

"Done," Hope answered over his shoulder with a dry laugh, hands already in his pockets, and she let him go. She waited a few moments, watching the easy but confident rhythm of his walk and wondering why on Pulse it made her stomach coil up like a spring. Lightning hastily turned and jogged back to the outpost.

_Why __did __I __have __to __follow __him? __Why __why _why?

Avoidance would have been the safer route.

* * *

Nineteen hundred came quickly, and in true PSICOM fashion, the officers were sharing a separate meal from the rest of the command, which meant that the most unsettled persons at the open-air tables besides Lightning were the three visiting sentries. Thanks to her encounter with Hope and a subsequent gnawing sense of anticipation, Lightning had felt tension building all evening, to the point that chow was practically impossible. She was unsure which of many culprits was primarily behind it: her fears connected to the pendant and Hope's declaration from three weeks before, the persistent, growing ache strung across those three weeks that she wanted to ignore, or her concern over whatever had transpired that had him preoccupied about the negotiations. Picking at the food on her plate, she was all too aware that her pressurized bubble of space was surrounded by the comfortable conversation of friends and subordinates.

Just when Lightning thought that her stomach couldn't possibly get more twisted into knots, Hope actually showed up to dinner and slid onto the bench beside her at the end of the table.

"Miss me?" he asked in a low enough voice that only Lightning heard, just a little too close to her ear for comfort.

_Maker, yes, but for the life of me... I can't work this out._

Her throat went dry, that or she finally _noticed_ it, and she quickly grabbed her glass and gulped down the water. Hope had done some serious attitude adjustment.

And his timing was perfectly wrong. She might have survived dinner, skated by in occasional conversation without drawing much attention to herself and escaped early, but his presence threw that strategy out the window.

"Hey, Hope!" Snow called out from farther down the table. "Glad you decided to join us!" Serah had given Lightning some space when she chose to sit alone at the far end rather than with them, but as soon as Hope came to the table, both of them picked up their plates and moved. At the sight of Snow barreling toward them, the outpost soldiers didn't need to be told to scoot down – it was instinctual. All bets were off, and Lightning felt like a test subject under scrutiny.

"Sis," Serah immediately started in, worrying over her, "why aren't you eating?"

Lightning replied semi-honestly, "Not a big fan of meatloaf." She made a heroic effort to stuff down a couple of bites of potatoes in support of that defense.

Already into some trivial conversation with Hope, Snow pointed his fork at the turquoise bandanna still tied onto Hope's head, laughing as he joked, "You know I have trademark rights on that look! I'm not gonna start wearing coveralls without running it by you – not that I'd _want_ to."

"Why is this such a big deal?" Hope said, rolling his eyes in mock frustration as he smiled genuinely, unzipping and tugging down the top portion of his coveralls to tie around his waist. Sleeves out of the way, he pulled off his gloves and tested the meatloaf, then added, "I can try something new if I feel like it."

It wasn't as if Hope didn't frequently tie off his coveralls and take off his gloves, but the afternoon had clearly been a hot one, making the t-shirt cling noticeably to his chest. Lightning stared deliberately at her food, feeling ridiculous about the blush she felt coming on. _This __is __me __understanding __why __you __did __that, __but __wishing __you __hadn__'__t __just __now._

"What happened to a little stability in changing times?" Snow pressed, devouring huge bites of meatloaf in between comments. "We're used to only ever seeing four versions of Hope Estheim: twenty-five, fifty, seventy-five, or one hundred percent 'coveralled'. The closest thing to a disaster so far was that weird robe in the village." At the mention of the incident and her sister's quizzical expression, Lightning couldn't help but let out a snort of a laugh, choking and sputtering on yet another bite of the indigestible mashed potatoes as some of it went up her nose.

Everyone in her line of sight cracked up, including a few of her temporary GC and PSICOM subordinates father down the table, and Hope patted her back as an ineffective gesture of concern, himself laughing as he asked, "You okay, Light?"

Nodding, Lightning swallowed the rest of the bite, wiped her face and set down her fork. She officially failed at eating, but the jovial mood at the table left her at least as at ease as she was embarrassed.

"What robe?" Serah asked, and Hope started into an explanation, but Lightning was mainly focused on the fact that his hand had not fallen away – his fingers trailed up and down the small of her back. Leaning her head on her palm as she listened to Hope chat with her sister, Lightning would have been content to pass the remaining time in quiet contemplation, watching his lips form words and eventually tuning out the sound entirely.

_So very soft…_

Then Hope faced her, and it took a moment for Lightning to realise that he was saying something to her. Blinking, she shifted her focus up to his eyes. It didn't help much.

"Sorry… what?" she asked. Hope raised an eyebrow, making her feel guilty and self-conscious for blatantly spacing out. Lightning sat up straight.

"Did you want your potatoes?" he asked, his right hand flat against her back.

She pushed the plate over. "No."

"Thanks – they were out by the time I went through the line," Hope said contentedly, and dug in. Something seemed off to her, and it took a moment for Lightning to pinpoint the problem.

"You're left-handed?" she asked, perplexed. Lightning could have sworn he threw the boomerang right-handed.

Hope stopped eating and gave her an amused look. "Ambidextrous, with some things," he replied, then proceeded to finish off the mashed potatoes.

_I've still got a lot to learn._

* * *

The sun had set completely by the time dinner wrapped up, sending the first wave of soldiers to the washrooms. Snow and Serah were still discussing setting up yet another tent so that Hope wouldn't have to go back to the transport for the night, when their subject leaped up to beat the rush.

"Don't need one, guys!" Hope called back, mid-run. Lightning's stomach clenched up at the lack of explanation.

_Did he forget? Or is he avoiding me again?_

It was beyond frustrating. "Think he's gotten too attached to that ship," Snow commented, and then he and Serah said their goodnights. Her sister gave her a comforting hug, and Lightning wondered if some little bit of her had betrayed how crestfallen she really felt. If Hope trusted her as much as he seemed to, why couldn't he just talk to her as promised? Disappointment and anger joined the ongoing chaos in her head, vying for dominance.

Striding past the table, she spotted an expanding file of paperwork left on the bench. Lightning flipped it open and thumbed through the pages, quickly identifying it as Serah's research file – Hope had apparently forgotten it. She made up her mind to give it to Serah in the morning. The first order of business for the night would be a shower, the only venue Lightning could think of to bring her down from the roller coaster of emotions that was sure to flip her around until morning.

An hour's worth of waiting and one cold shower later, she picked her way through the maze of scattered tents lit by the blue glow of solar lamps to her own tent in the back right corner of the field. The fact that light was coming from in front of the tent should have been her first indicator, but the slightly green cast to that light ought to have made it abundantly clear that something was off. At any rate, Lightning nearly jumped out of her skin when Hope looked up from where he sat in the shadows next to the opening, his damp, disheveled hair reflecting the greenish glow. He had draped the bandanna over the lamp.

"What are you doing here? I thought you went—" Lightning began, aggravation still persisting.

Hope cut in. "Back to the transport, I know." He smirked, getting to his feet and dusting off. "But I promised to talk to you after dinner, and this seemed like the best way to avoid some long explanation to Serah and still get a shower in time."

"Long explanation about what?" Slowly but surely, curiosity was winning out over the anger she had felt at being misled.

Shifting uncomfortably on his feet, Hope said quietly, "About why I didn't want my own tent. I'd like to stay with you, Light, if-if that's okay. I mean, I can always just walk back to the transport if not, but… I've really missed you."

Pulse suddenly racing, Lightning felt a second wave of the earlier, stifled feelings. She _wanted_ him to stay. Not that she was going to come out and say it right off the bat.

"I'll think about it," she replied, calming her own personal storm. "You at least owe me the rest of that conversation."

Hope's eyes lit up. "Yeah, guess I do." He lifted the tent flap and let her in, following behind after he turned out the lamp.

The tiny, functional space had just enough room to sit up – as with most other military tents used in the field, it was only designed for bedding and storage for one to two people. Lightning was both grateful for and unnerved by the darkness and closeness of the situation as she sat on her bedroll, but Hope seemed to settle right in. He flopped down stomach-first on the floor to her right, laying his head on his crossed arms and grinning over at her. Once her eyes adjusted, she could make out his form and features in the faint glow through the canvas from lamps in the vicinity. No wonder he acted so confident.

_He's been challenging me all evening. I can take him._

"So," Lightning said finally, unstrapping and setting aside her gunblade, "what _were_ you so focused on earlier?" She deliberately took her time removing the pouch from her leg, and followed the usual routine, stripping off items from a mental checklist one by one like clockwork: boots, socks, gloves, sleeve, shoulder-guard…

Suddenly, Hope had sat up and moved right next to her, his gloved hand stopping her from undoing the wider belt around her ribcage. "Light, maybe you shouldn't do that." He sounded strained – she could hear his shallow breathing.

"I don't usually _sleep_ in my uniform," Lightning retorted, continuing to try and loosen the buckle under his fingers; he bit his lip and refused to move, but she couldn't help feeling justified in making him squirm under the same tension than had plagued her for days. "Are you going to answer my question?"

_Are you going to take my challenge?_

Lightning got a good deal more than she asked for. Finally brushing her hands away from the belt, he pulled her close. "Let me help you, first," Hope said, the tone of his voice making the words more suggestive than suggestion, "since you insist." He kissed her surprised, open mouth; Lightning was too distracted by his lips, and more acutely his tongue that became involved to really notice or care what his hands were up to. Several rapid, efficient tugs later and all four belts on the front of her uniform were completely unhooked.

Gasping and flushed, Lightning backed completely away. "How did you…?" She had unbelted the uniform thousands of times, but never anywhere near that fast. If it was an indicator of Hope's general speed, she needed to apply the brakes.

"When I know how to put something together, I can take it apart in half the time," Hope said, smiling mischievously but not making another move toward her. His point was made. He stretched out on his side at her feet and propped up his head to watch her. "I do wear a belt, you know."

_And _that _one__'__s __staying __on. __Guess __I __found __the __line._

Lightning went ahead and shrugged off the jacket, willing herself to be comfortable around him in the midriff-baring sweater. Leaning forward, she gently rolled Hope onto his back and laid her head on his chest, curling up roughly perpendicular to his body. "Just answer me already. I need to know what's bothering you."

Hope shifted Lightning's rucksack to use as a pillow, and with his head angled forward she could see conflicted emotions cross his face before he calmed down, running his hand over the length of her upper arm until it dropped off to rest on her exposed waist. Taking a deep breath, he said uneasily, "We're trying to keep my identity, and Serah's, from the PSICOM officers until we feel more assured of their intentions. Especially from Commander Baram. Right now, they just think I'm their pilot, and tomorrow I'll just be Serah's 'test subject' regarding the virus."

"Sounds like a lot of trouble," she replied, "so why are you doing it?" Lightning lifted his hand from below the hem of her sweater and pulled off the roughened glove – it felt harsh against her skin. She did the same with the other hand resting on her hair, and Hope tentatively returned both to their positions. Lightning heard the flutter of his heartbeat at the loss of that leather barrier.

It took a few breaths for Hope to find his bearings, but he finally replied, "Because this commander's had a personal issue with us from the beginning. He was the PSICOM officer that started everything… the one that threatened me face to face, and tried to go after Serah." Hope sounded momentarily fourteen again – it was an echo of former hurt that hadn't quite passed away.

"Lucil recognised him immediately and radioed all of us before the delegation boarded. She actually wanted to keep me completely out of the negotiations in case things got messy, but in the end we compromised. I don't know how long I can keep them in the dark, though. Not sure I even want to."

_No wonder he was so distraught. He needs to relax even more than I do._

Lightning reached out to swipe away a bead of sweat at his temple before moving up to wind her fingers into his hair. "Explains the bandanna," she murmured, "but I'm glad you took it off."

"Oh, so you _like_ this." Hope chuckled and reached up to ruffle his hair harshly, sending the layered pieces every which way. Lightning tried and failed to smooth out some of the damage.

Giving up, she rolled onto her stomach and hovered in front of Hope's self-satisfied face, smirking. "Hmph. Not sure how you get away with permanent bed-head."

"Easy. Just shower, let it dry, sleep on it and ignore everyone's opinions," he said matter-of-factly. "I bet it'd look good on you." Even in the darkness, Lightning could feel his eyes burning into hers.

_Maybe just one more step…_

She leaned down to Hope's ear. "We'll see," Lightning whispered, running her lips beneath his jaw, down and over the pulse she felt thrumming below the surface. It set off an immediate reaction – he wrapped one arm securely around her, the other hand pushing the hair back from her face and neck in order to mirror her actions. Lightning quickly migrated back to his mouth and settled there, the intensity of her kisses steadily climbing of its own accord as she responded to Hope's broken breathing and occasional sounds of contentment.

But it was only after Hope sat them both upright that Lightning truly lost control – he pulled her onto his lap and she unthinkingly wound her legs around him, unzipped the front of his coveralls and helped him out of the sleeves while continuing the string of kisses, feeling his hands on her skin or in her hair and losing all sense of reason as she drowned in the taste and depth of his mouth. She could hardly breathe for the heat.

Which was precisely why, when Hope asked, panting, whether he could 'help her' with the suffocating sweater, Lightning was all too happy to oblige. In hindsight, it was actually the better decision – she would have taken the entire thing off had she done it herself, as opposed to lowering its zipper the modest length that he did. He trailed kisses from her neck down the newly exposed skin, crossing the collarbone and sinking further until he bumped into the pendant that hung centered just above her chest. Strangely enough, that action brought everything to a screeching halt. Hope stiffened, sucked in a breath and pulled back. Lightning had no idea how to respond. Her head was reeling.

_Did I do something wrong?_

* * *

"Light," he said between heavy breaths, "I think we should slow down."

"_Why?_"

Hope could clearly see that she was far from pleased – her eyes and expression were filled with desire and frustration, skin starting to shine with sweat, and part of him wanted to slap himself for causing it. The rest was preoccupied with the pendant around Lightning's neck. Like its counterpart radar signal, the stone flashed and reminded him of the deeper feelings he had expressed to her over the past few weeks, making him keenly aware that he did not want to simply cave to instinct, which was fast becoming inevitable. The thought had stopped him cold.

_Light means more to me than that. _

Pulse beginning to settle, Hope cleared his throat. "Because I love you, and I don't want to rush this."

"Rush? Wait – so you love me, but you don't _want_ me right now?" Lightning asked, confused, rocking him backward and staying flush against him. "If this is fear-motivated, save it. I've had a mandatory contraceptive implant since enlisting."

Hope leveraged his weight and flipped them both over, pinning her down. "I _do_ want you, and that's… good to know," he said, briefly thrown by the concept of a very beautiful Lightning Farron passing years in the military surrounded by men with no fear of repercussions. He shook it off, continuing with the original point. "But do you _love_ me?"

Hesitating as her frustration died down, Lightning finally stammered, "I'm not… absolutely sure. I care about you, Hope, just… give me some time to figure this out." She looked cornered, and it hurt him to hear the uncertainty – even if he expected as much from a soldier with trust issues.

Sighing, Hope kissed her softly, once. "Fair enough. Then give me some time to decide when I'm ready to _make_ love." He rolled off of her and stared up at the center crease of the tent's canvas, trying not to think too hard about what had transpired. He could tell that Lightning had not moved a centimeter.

_Hope __I __can __sleep _this _one __off. __Not __even __sure _where _I__'__ll __be __sleeping._

"Light, did you want me to stay?" he asked quietly.

"Do you really have to ask?" Her simple, flat reply had him up in seconds, and he was halfway out of the tent's entrance when she grabbed his boot.

"Where are you going?" Lightning asked, something like irritation in her voice.

Hope crawled back in and faced her, confused. "To the transport. Didn't you want me to leave?"

"Of _course_ not," she said emphatically, and then added much more softly, "I've missed you. Not just physically."

"Well that's a relief," Hope said, smiling at her explanation. He lay back down beside her, and Lightning curled into his form, fitting her back and legs to the shape he had taken and relaxing there as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

"That doesn't mean I don't miss this part of you," Lightning said sleepily. "Haven't slept well in days… seems like it's always from exhaustion."

Hope held her closer, reassuringly. "Then we've got some catching up to do."

* * *

The next morning was beautiful. Not because of the weather or the sunrise – there were no such indicators at five o'clock when Hope's watch alarm beeped softly in the background. Sleeping in longer wasn't worth causing Lightning needless trouble if he left her tent in broad daylight. He shut it off, groggily lifting himself from the soldier's sleeping form and smiling down at her tangled pile of hair.

_It does look good on her._

He refused to wake her, even for a kiss, and reset the alarm on his watch for six thirty before removing it and setting it down beside Lightning's curled hand. Just as Hope was about to turn and leave the tent, she stirred, mumbling his name and something that sounded more like an actual statement than sleep-talking.

"What's up, Light?" he asked quietly as he leaned over her again.

"_You_ are, apparently." Lightning's sleepy attempt at humor made him smile, and Hope wished for the fiftieth time that the day's negotiations wouldn't taint his spectacularly good mood. She pulled him down completely by the t-shirt and kissed his neck, shifting the leg that was beneath him before she tacked on, "So that _is_ a morning thing, huh."

_Maker, woman. You're killing me._

Hope shook his head at her brashness. "Yes and no. Forget about it, really."

"Hard to ignore," Lightning muttered, raising an eyebrow, and he buried his head in the crook of her neck and laughed. It was things like this that he would have liked to tell Snow later on, if he didn't already know that it would mean merciless teasing for the rest of eternity.

"I really have to go," Hope mumbled against her skin, kissing the spot and sitting up before she could do anything else to make him stay. "I'll let you know how things turn out, if no one else does first."

Lightning stretched her entire body, and then rolled onto her side. "Don't forget Serah's file – it's right by the entry."

"Got it," Hope said, grabbing the expanding folder.

Lightning propped herself up. "And Hope…"

"Yes?"

She hesitated on the request. "Stay here tonight – if you want, anyway."

"Trust me, I do." Hope left the tent, retrieving the bandanna from her lamp to tie around his head as he wandered dizzily toward the main building. Once he woke up completely, nerves were sure to give him away in one form or another, but for the moment he felt manageable giddiness.

Maqui was already in the control room when Hope walked in; looking up from the frequency dials, he stared at Hope like he'd just witnessed a rare sighting.

"Wow, _you__'__re_ up early. This may be a new record!"

Hope laughed at his friend, and then checked the nearby coffee pot. "Get used to it. Hey, is this fresh?"

"Yeah, have some," Maqui offered, starting to look confused. "Not that you seem to need it. Seriously, you look _way_ too alive for five thirty. Which makes no sense – you would've gotten up at four thirty at the latest to get here so early, unless…"

The gears were clicking in Maqui's head. Hope shrugged as he poured coffee into a mug, and Maqui suddenly ripped off his headset and spun his chair around.

_Guess he put it together. Not surprising._

"_No!_ Please tell me I wasn't used as a tool for your little romantic whatever-it-is! You said you just needed to get that file from her!"

"And I got it," Hope said with a smirk, holding up the file. "Thanks again. Saved me a lot of time finding the right tent."

"I oughtta hit you for being such a sneak," Maqui began, trying to hold his fury but quickly dissolving into laughter. "Guess I'll leave that to Lightning – Maker knows she could've killed you, so I take this as a good sign. Let's just say you owe me, and you _will_ pay."

Hope took his coffee and sank into a nearby chair. "Absolutely worth it."

"'Best ratchet set' worth it?" He sounded so hopeful.

"Maqui, you can take my ship for all I care."

Apparently, that was past the line of comprehensible – Maqui whistled in awe. "You're a goner."

* * *

The negotiations that day were a positive indicator for the rest of the week, overall. Everything seemed to be going smoothly: Major Nooj arrived in plenty of time for breakfast before the meeting, and the medical transport was right behind him, giving Serah adequate time to check in with the staff and run a last-minute re-count on the amount of treatment in supply. Hope was content to sit inconspicuously at the back of the conference room, listening to the higher-ups work through the formalities of introductions – breezing over him as "Kai" and Serah as "Elida" – and then delve into overall force statistics.

So Hope didn't have much to report that evening when he saw Lightning again. It felt unbalanced to him, unfair that he had her help to unwind but couldn't put her at ease about the state of affairs.

Methodically twisting Lightning's hair around his fingers, he finally told her his concerns. "I'm pretty much useless today – nothing to contribute in the meeting, nothing to offer you…"

"I get plenty of reports from everyone," Lightning said. "That's not why I wanted you to come back here."

The rest of the night was a blur.

* * *

By the second day, the negotiations were past the point of keeping up appearances, and Hope was able to get a feel for the members of the PSICOM delegation. Colonel Sabin gave him a good impression – he seemed willing to listen, open with information, and generally nothing like the man Hope had imagined to be running their operations. It made sense though, since he had assumed command just two weeks before, when the virus claimed their former acting director. Hope shivered to think that while he was recovering from a rare, third-stage relapse himself, the highest-ranking member of Cocoon's surviving military died without the means to fight off the initial infection.

Commander Baram was obviously the most unsettled with their change of leadership, and his demeanor was not the slightest bit different than Hope recalled from five years before. Even when Serah presented her more than convincing findings from years of research, explaining in every possible way the details of how the virus worked and why their treatments were a success, the PSICOM commander had to get in a negative word. Still, Hope had played his part, stood as living proof of Serah's expertise, and taken comfort in Colonel Sabin's obvious acceptance of it all. Not that it erased his anger.

"Light, I want to _strangle_ that man," Hope growled, collapsing in exasperation immediately upon entering the tent that night.

She simply moved over and straddled him, looking down with amusement at his surprised face while undoing the coveralls. "Not very diplomatic of you," Lightning said, still tugging the sleeves free of his arms like it was nothing unusual.

"Wasn't my intention anyway," Hope replied, grinning at her directness. Maintaining the 'belt line' agreement had yet to kill the mood.

"Can I strangle him for you?"

"Be my guest." Hope searched his quickly fogging mind to make actual conversation. "So, how was your day?"

"Boring. Usual drama in the camp. Checked in with Maqui, though," she replied, letting the sleeve drop and settling down onto his chest. "I _wondered_ how you found me."

_Seriously __doubt __Maqui __will __be __blackmailing __me _now_._

Hope couldn't help but smirk. "Wrong of me, I know."

"I was going to say resourceful," Lightning responded.

That conversation ended better than he could have anticipated.

* * *

Days three and four of the negotiations were more of the same process inherent in former enemies ironing out a plan to cooperate for the sake of saving lives, with the added blandness of logistics thrown into the mix. Among other things, the major insisted that PSICOM cease operation of the sulfur mine as part of the terms of the armistice, but in the end they came to an agreement for using the mine in other capacities, under periodic inspections from the Guardian Corps. Now that both forces resided on Pulse, it was becoming clear that equality between PSICOM and the Guardian Corps made irrefutable sense, and excepting Commander Baram, the notion was accepted.

Regarding the remedy, Hope could see that Serah felt nervous from the pressure of demands being spelled out for her future – thousands of doses would have to be prepared at a startling rate, on top of continued research and eventual production of her improved treatment for relapse patients. She had nodded and agreed cheerfully with the terms that their superiors worked out, but it left Hope feeling uneasy. On top of that, Baram's mention of 'preventative action for the future' as part of the next day's agenda did not bode well. At least not with the way _he_ had said it.

Lightning was sharpening her gunblade when Hope went back to her after the meeting.

"Okay. Am I in trouble?" he teased, trying to lighten the heavy mood that still clung to him.

She gave him an incredulous look, but it softened once she had read his face. "Not to my knowledge. We had sparring practice today, though, so you'd better not be," Lightning said, putting her weapon aside. "Lucil called. She said that Serah had a hard time in the meeting – is that what's bothering you?"

"More or less," he sighed, opting not to trouble her further. "Could you talk to her? She's always so encouraged when you give her support… understandably."

Lightning leaned in and kissed him. "Done," she said, leaving Hope to mull things over.

He couldn't get to sleep until she came back.

* * *

As Hope had feared, that fifth day threatened to topple all of the progress achieved in the negotiations so far, courtesy of Commander Baram. It was as if he had spent the whole night delving up every complaint he could possibly level at the resistance, and halfway through the meeting, he slammed the group with his own personal ace-in-the-hole.

It started when Snow mentioned his training with Snuggles, as part of the discussion on future alternatives for handling security in the settlement.

"That's preposterous. None of our men have dared to move within a hundred meters of a wyvern unarmed, much less train it like a house pet!" the commander sneered. "It's as if the Pulsian monster can tell you're l'Cie."

Snow was indignant. "_Former_ l'Cie – everyone knows that I lost my brand and my focus when I woke up! And I've been training Snuggles since he was half my size, treating him with respect. That goes a_long_ way."

"Commander, mind yourself," Major Nooj warned. "Snow has been a trusted member of our forces for over two years now. In addition to verification that his brand disappeared, he's proven himself to be disassociated with the fal'Cie in any way. Otherwise, he would be Cie'th by now."

Baram was undeterred. "Every case is different, and you're taking a risk letting these 'former' l'Cie into your force, Major. I say this for your own good, and the good of Cocoon in the future."

"Commander, regardless of their role in sparking the political controversy that exacerbated the rift between PSICOM and the Guardian Corps, we have no reason to believe that any of the l'Cie from before present a threat," Colonel Sabin said decisively. "So unless you know something to the contrary, there's no reason to dwell on this subject." It was clear that the colonel showed promise as a leader, but had difficulty reining in the much more established commander under his authority, regardless of rank.

Unflinching, Baram still made his point. "Even if I don't trust our assumptions in judging the methods of deceitful, unstable fal'Cie and their servants, I can't argue with the proof supporting the other l'Cie. However, the last one awakened not two months ago, and no one's reported a single piece of information on _her_. Lightning Farron was Guardian Corps, so I can't imagine you would have turned her away, Major. L'Cie or not."

Hope fought desperately against the urge to defend her. Logically, he knew that would only cause conflict rather than resolve the issue, but that didn't make it any easier.

"Sergeant Farron is an asset to our force," Lieutenant Baralai replied stoically. "She hasn't shown a single l'Cie tendency, and even had a dangerous bout with the virus. She survived like every other human – with medical treatment."

"You'll forgive me for not just taking your word," Commander Baram said with mock propriety, "but what about her brand?"

_It's gone. I didn't see anything there. Does no one else know?_

The lieutenant was conspicuously silent, as was the entire room.

"Are you suggesting that I call the sergeant in?" Major Nooj was livid in his unnerving, quiet way. No one dared to breathe.

"If it's not a great inconvenience," the commander replied, straightening his notes on the table. "Can't be too careful, not with a potential l'Cie in our midst."

"Commander, even if she's here, it can't be verified unless the original location of the brand is known," Colonel Sabin said, confounded. Hope could tell that this was far beyond what he had expected to deal with, and he pitied the man.

Baram shook his head. "Then someone will have to make sure it's nowhere to be found." That was the last straw.

_I'm going to take him down._

Hope could see that every single member of the resistance in the room wanted to do the same, do something to defend Lightning, but he was fairly certain that no one else knew the information that the commander demanded.

"She's _not_ a l'Cie," he said between gritted teeth, just loudly enough to be heard. "I know it for a fact."

The colonel spoke up, and Hope could tell that he wasn't too keen on the commander's controversial idea by the relieved tone behind his question. "How could you possibly know where it was before?"

"Because I was _there_. I saw it flare up when the eidolon fought her, and… it isn't there now. The brand is gone, Sir – for all of us." Nothing left to lose, Hope pulled the bandanna from his head to drive the point home.

_I'm taking a risk on your trust, Colonel._

"_You_," Commander Baram spat, standing to his feet. "Of _course_ you would know, Hope Estheim. Nice of you to keep us in the dark about your identity, but then again, it is a l'Cie's nature to be deceitful."

Hope didn't get a chance to respond, because Colonel Sabin had risen to his feet, clearly pushed over the line by his subordinate's behavior. "_Enough!_" he yelled, and Hope exhaled the breath he'd been holding once everyone's eyes turned from him to the colonel.

"You are _out __of __line_, Commander. This l'Cie paranoia was what caused the Purge, and I can see now that it was truly the force behind this five-year conflict! Who knows how many lives have been lost from the combination of two wars and an epidemic?" For the first time, Hope felt power behind the colonel's words, and saw fear on the commander's face.

"You've been a thorn in my side since I took over as acting director, and I had a suspicion that my predecessor kept you under his wing for a reason – as a barrier to progress. I am absolutely convinced that PSICOM needs a complete overhaul, starting _now_," the colonel finished, motioning to the sentries at his side. "Take Commander Baram into custody and escort him back to the ship."

It was a collective jaw-dropping moment. The silence was finally dispelled when Colonel Sabin took his seat, looked across the room at Hope, and said simply, "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Estheim. Commander Vargus told me all about you."

"He-he did?" Hope stammered, thrown by the sudden turn of events. Vargus just nodded and tried not to smile.

"Yes," Sabin replied, "but we can discuss that later. For now, let's wrap up these negotiations, shall we?"

_Wouldn't take much to convince me that this week has been a dream._

* * *

At the end of the day, the merger of the two forces was officially in writing. While their hierarchical structures would remain intact, PSICOM and the Guardian Corps had become partners once again in the name of Cocoon's defense and well-being. And despite the fact that change couldn't possibly happen overnight, the framework was laid out in detail, the leadership committed to a common cause – all the makings of a solid fix.

Exhausted, but more hopeful than they had been in years, everyone walked out of the conference room in high spirits, passing the news as quickly as possible over their transceivers or by word of mouth to the main bases and the rest of the outpost.

Serah tackled Hope in a hug. "I can't believe it! That jerk finally got put in his place, and we don't have to fight anymore!" She was so ecstatic, Snow had to rip her away, at which point she leaped on him instead and delivered a not-so-discrete kiss before dropping back down.

"I'm going to find Sis right _now_!" she exclaimed with delight, running down the p-way ahead of them.

Hope was about to follow her when Snow threw an arm over his shoulders. "So," he said mischievously, "you 'verified' that Lightning's brand is gone, did you?"

"Snow, don't go there, _please_—"

"It's going to be a really fun day – oh wait, let's make that rest-of-your-pathetic-life – for me." He walked away grinning, obviously beyond pleased with the situation, leaving Hope red-faced and tongue-tied. The trouble had just begun for himself _and_ Lightning, but it was what it was. He wasn't backing down from the challenge.

_Light, I hope you'll forgive me._


	20. Interlude: Killing Time

**A/N: Please read this! ** I am posting this as an Interlude chapter before the epilogue, as it will be about a month before I can post that. This chapter is actually a collection of the deleted scenes from my fic – there isn't one for each chapter or anything, since some chapters were just harder than others and I screwed up a lot more on those, but these are in chronological order (with titles about the scene from which they were taken). You may see a few lines within that I chose to keep in the actual story.

At the end, I have included a list of the songs that inspired me in writing the story this whole time for your listening pleasure, so check it out! I would love to see reviews if there are any parts of scenes you think I should have left in, or particularly hated, etc. And please take the time to pick at least one song and try to match it to a scene/chapter in the review, if you can manage. It will make my month AWESOME!

Disclaimer: Still owned by Square Enix, though they wouldn't want to lay claim to my screw-ups :P

* * *

**Interlude: Killing Time (again)**

Serah's House – washing dishes

_What if she finds the letters?_

Hope had written two letters, one to Lightning and one to his father, every month since Serah suggested it as a way to stay connected to loved ones. It was during that first very difficult year after his waking, when everyone he had been close to was dead, crystallized, or missing. He eliminated the prospect of their discovery as irrational, because the papers were tucked into a nondescript technical manual and hidden in a tiny compartment beneath a floor panel. Still, it would be the most embarrassing thing that could ever happen to him – worse than all the times he'd failed Light in battle and cowered in fear _combined_. He was eternally thankful that no one had ever come near to those incredibly personal documents.

* * *

After the Coffee Scene, before leaving Serah's house

Just then, Sazh and Dajh came down the stairs, the former entering the kitchen. "We're headin' out – it's way past Dajh's bedtime," Sazh said, yawning. "Thanks for everything, Serah. I'm sure we'll run into you again real soon." Serah gave him a hug, and Snow clapped him on the back.

"Don't be a stranger," Snow joked.

"Ha. Like I'd miss out on the home-cookin'," he shot back.

Sazh walked over to Light, extending his hand to the soldier with a knowing grin. "We'll be seein' you around," he said simply, and Lightning shook his hand. She smiled a little at her old comrade.

"Yeah," she replied with a nod.

Before leaving, Sazh turned to Hope and roughly tousled his hair. Light expected him to be annoyed, but his silver mane was already a disaster, and Hope just gave his mentor a crooked grin.

"You remember what I told you?" Sazh asked seriously.

"Do I ever forget?" Hope replied, with an edge of mischief.

"Yeah, you do. Now go home and sleep, or I'll find you in the mornin' wherever the heck you are, and you won't like me very much," Sazh warned, but Hope just gave him a quick "Roger that," and they both laughed it off. Sazh gave him a single slap on the back and moved on.

The older man returned to the stairs, gently shaking Dajh awake from an impromptu nap on the bottom step. The boy stood unsteadily, rubbing his eyes.

"Time to go, son," Sazh quietly said to him, and then he turned back to everyone for a final farewell.

"G'night, guys." He waved a hand, and Dajh sleepily followed suit with a little wave. The two of them made their way up the stairs and out the door.

"Goodnight!" "Take it easy!" "See ya later!" "Bye!" They all called after Sazh and Dajh, the farewells jumbled together.

"Alright, then. Be right back with that bedding," Serah announced, climbing the stairs and digging around in a closet somewhere. The noises of shuffling and scraping drawers could be heard downstairs.

"Anything else you need, Light?" Hope inquired, his tone unreadable. He took her coffee mug and washed it out.

"I can survive in the wilderness with a knife. Pretty sure I'm all set," Light responded, not meaning to sound cold, but wanting to hurry things along.

Hope chuckled at the reply, drying the mug and placing it with the others. He faced her, unreservedly laughing at her cross expression, and said candidly, "Wow, you really haven't changed!"

Lightning was set on edge by his sudden brazenness, and she turned away, arms crossed. "What did you expect?" she said harshly, under her breath.

"Oh good grief, I wasn't trying to insult your superiority. Let me rephrase: Anything else you _want_, Light?" Hope asked again, this time openly mocking her, and she felt a fleeting desire to slap the smirk off his face.

_Wait, I would never hurt Hope. I need to get a grip._

Light sighed, frustrated with her own uncharacteristic lack of self-control. Getting riled up over harmless banter was not professional, and it was unacceptable.

"Nothing. Really," she replied, willingly softening her tone. "I _want_ to go to bed. Now."

Lightning noticed that Snow was still skulking around, clearly amused at the exchange. She sent him a barbed look that hopefully communicated the message, "Mind your own freaking business."

Snow obviously wanted to crack up, but instead responded teasingly to the glare. "Geez, Light. Are you tryin' to burn a hole in my head? I know you're cranky, but don't kill the host, okay?"

_Enough is enough. Time to leave._

Light crossed the room, pausing at the staircase to simply say, "I'll wait outside." She took the stairs two at a time and went out the door, careful not to slam it.

Not two minutes later, Serah opened the door, and timidly asked, "You okay, sis?"

Lightning was thankful for that quiet minute she'd had to collect herself. "Yes, I'm fine. Just need some sleep," she said flatly, and it was more or less true.

"Right. Sorry it took so long to get everything together, but I have all the bedding now," Serah said, trying to be cheerful.

"Oh. Great. I can take it, then," Light offered, but Serah shook her head.

"I already gave it to Hope," she said brightly.

On cue, Hope came out the door, loaded down with a mountain of blankets, sheets, and a pillow. Only a tuft of his hair was visible above the stack. "Sure hope we didn't forget anything," he said, sarcasm coming through clearly, despite his muffled voice.

Altered leaving scene from Serah's house w/ bedding

"Hope, are there already linens over there?" Serah asked, sounding eager to help out and buzzing with an undercurrent of excitement, despite looking worn-out herself.

"Technically yes, and they haven't been used, but they're probably pretty musty. Like I said, I haven't been over there for weeks," he said honestly.

"That's perfect then!" Serah exclaimed, and everyone stared, flabbergasted. She seemed puzzled for a moment, and then added, "I didn't finish! I just washed a bunch of bedding, and _that's_ perfect. Good grief." She rolled her eyes and sighed in mock frustration.

It was a very short walk to Hope's quarters, three minutes at a snail's pace, but with the darkness and a need to watch out for loose paving stones, they made it to the door in four minutes and with only one stubbed toe. Lightning was grateful for her military boots, which had spared her the humiliation of doing a little dance of pain in the middle of the street.

* * *

After leaving Light on the first day – going to the hangar

Hope had continuously multiplying reasons for wanting to get moving, double-time. As tired as he felt, a second end of the world could not prevent him from attacking the hangar with a vengeance, and he was already on the road back. Some part of him felt guilty about leaving Light by herself in a strange new place, and an even smaller part was just plain frustrated about leaving _Light_.

_And that's exactly why I did._

Inside the hangar, the _Bartholomew_ was already parked for maintenance, so Hope spent the better part of the night cleaning around the ship and organizing the parts pulled out of the bunker. By 4 a.m., he had stashed the parts for Light's gunblade in a crate marked "SECURED" under the bed and straightened the room up considerably.

* * *

Original lead-in to passing out scene in pub

She slumped lower in the chair, turning completely to the side and leaning her head on her hands, eyes to the floor.

He put the gunblade behind his chair and turned to face Light, gingerly laying a hand on her arm. "Is there anything I can do? What do you need?" he asked, fully aware that it might be beyond him to help.

"Bathroom," she groaned.

Hope looked over the table at Serah, and motioned for her to come around. As she made her way to them, he saw that the others were beginning to notice that something was going on at the end of the table, and he heard them talking amongst themselves. Sazh shot him an anxious glance, but seemed to lighten up a bit once Serah had joined them.

"What can I do?" she asked Hope, bending down to keep her voice low.

"Get her to the bathroom," he said. "Might be a migraine, but it could be something else, like an intestinal bug."

"I'll take care of it," Serah replied, and then she leaned close to Light's lowered head. "You're coming with me, Sis." She put an arm under Lightning's, helping her to stand, but as soon as Light began to rise up from the seat, it was clear that things were going south.

"Serah, I think I'm going to–" she began, but instantly threw up all over the floor and on Hope's shoes. Serah quickly pulled Light's hair back from her face and just stood there, and Hope was too shocked to move. All he could do was hold onto her arms and try to be a silent support. Others at the table had seen and heard – and by now, smelled – the commotion, and they were bustling around trying to find a way to assist; Hope vaguely heard Snow calling out for Lebreau to unlock the supply closet.

After a couple of minutes, Light seemed to be calming down, and the entire contents of her stomach were spent. She looked up for a moment from the splattered floor, clearly embarrassed and desperate to regain control of the situation as she glanced around at the empty table and the hubbub all through the room.

"I need to…clean this up," she mumbled, jerking her arms back from Hope's steadying grip.

Lightning stubbornly forced herself to try and stand again, and Hope had no time to react as he saw the color drain from her face as she fell forward, landing awkwardly across him and partially in the puddle of vomit, unmoving. It was déjà vu – like the case with that scout in the 47th sector in the past week, like Serah's newest nurse trainee three days before, like… Realization hit, and he barely maintained the presence of mind to hold Lightning up from sliding completely into the floor.

* * *

Lebreau's Pub – after Light passed out

Ever the medic, and now in emergency mode, Serah had brought him back to reality, and he nodded to her as he pulled Light's limp form out of the mess on the floor and hefted her weight across both arms, heading straight for the door. Serah had gone ahead of him, running outside and on her way to medical. They both understood that time was of the essence in the regrettably familiar scenario.

* * *

End of Intro where Hope worked on the gunblade

He couldn't think of another opportunity that would have been more perfect to do the repairs; it wasn't like she needed the gunblade during recuperation, and if everything worked out as planned, it would be a pleasant surprise for her.

* * *

After mine infiltration, just before Light and miner reach prisoners

He thought it over, counting to himself. "Let's see – had to be four years by now. Workers get a surface break once a month for fresh air, and I've had forty-nine of those. Can't believe it's been that long since the protest demonstration that landed me here!" For a moment, his voice took on a nostalgic feel. "Never did get to meet the l'Cie kid behind the whole mess, some boy PSICOM was after. All I knew was that they made Serah cry – she was the sweetest nurse, maybe the sweetest person in the whole settlement, and they hounded her like she was sheltering a criminal. She just kept treating patients anyway, though."

"You knew Serah?" Lightning asked, blind-sided. This miner's story was something her sister had never mentioned. "What happened with that protest?"

Stopping in the path, he lowered the cart and turned, perplexed. "Yes. She treated me for some weird sickness a few months after the evacuation. Why do you care about all this?"

"Because I'm actively involved in the rebellion, and because she's my sister." Light gave him a hard look, and watched his jaw drop in surprise.

Finally, the miner found his voice. "I suspected you might be from the resistance, but not, you know, _that _close…I mean, I-I can see the resemblance, n-now that you mention it." At that point, he felt it necessary to face forward and keep moving, but Light still wanted the full story. She strode ahead of the cart and gripped its sides, halting progress and blocking the path.

"Tell me everything," she demanded.

Making record time in both speech and movement, once Lightning had gotten out of the way, the man rapidly recounted the details as they approached the final stretch of the tunnel. According to his recollection, around thirty civilians from the recovery ward, including himself, had gathered outside the medical facility that morning in anticipation of another threatening visit from the PSICOM official that had charged in the previous day. Serah, in her own stubborn way, refused to cave and leave her work in the facility at the request of the Guardian Corps, whose members were spread thin after multiple arrests, so while she kept a low profile and treated patients, the soldiers supporting a resistance had maintained protection over her dependents, in addition to consolidating their forces. PSICOM was content to let her be, until the day their main target dropped off the radar.

"I knew something was wrong when she came in late, all puffy-eyed and sad. It took a while to get her to tell me what was wrong, but once she did, I just about leaped off the cot. Serah knew they were coming for her, and this time, they didn't plan on leaving empty-handed," the miner said, long-forgotten anger tightening his voice. "But she still wanted to treat the patients, and she didn't know where the kid was that they were after, just that the GC had him in a safe place and she wouldn't be able to come back to the clinic anymore. While she packed up her things, I got every willing and able body in the ward up and outside to protest and stall PSICOM."

He laughed mirthlessly. "It was a pathetic resistance, but I'm pretty sure Serah got away fine by the time they had finished arresting everybody. I really hope she did, and I hope that kid ended up safe, too, for her sake. Can't seem to remember his name."

If nothing else, Lightning was astonished at the loyalty her sister had forged among her patients, even when they were likely divvied up among various prisons or labor camps for what they had done. The least she could do was give this one man affirmation that his efforts had not been in vain.

"Serah is doing well," she said definitively, "and she's still treating patients in the rebel camp. As for the 'kid' PSICOM was after, you just met him. His name is Hope."

"Oh, _oh_," he said, eyebrows flying up in surprise. "Guess he had to grow up eventually. I can't tell you how great it is to know that Serah's okay – could you pass a greeting on to her for me? Tell her Clasko wishes her all the best."

They finally stood at the end of the tunnel, a brighter glow from multiple lamps in the upcoming room filtering into the passage. "Tell her yourself, when we get out of here," Lightning responded, all senses on alert to whatever security was in the space ahead.

_If twenty other prisoners are escaping, this guy's going too._

"I appreciate the sentiment," he said quietly, "but let's see how this goes first. The prisoners are in the next room. What's the plan?"

* * *

Original end to chapter 19 between Snow and Hope

Hope was about to follow her, when Snow threw an arm over his shoulders. "So," he said mischievously, "you 'verified' that Lightning's brand is gone, did you?"

"Snow, don't go there, _please_—"

"Oh, I am. Have fun with the terms on _that_ bet, loser." He walked away grinning, obviously beyond pleased with the situation, leaving Hope red-faced and tongue-tied.

Hope knew he never should have made such a bet against Snow with his lucky track record, but that was on his last birthday, and he couldn't possibly have guessed that the present circumstances would ever be reality. The trouble had just begun for himself _and_ Lightning, but it was what it was. He wasn't one to back down from a challenge.

_Light, I hope you'll forgive me._

_

* * *

_

**Inspiration Playlist (by main character)**

This list is a peace offering for reviewing my story and having to wait for the epilogue *shrugs*. Please don't take these tracks as literal, line by line matches to how I feel about the characters or what I think they necessarily feel/want to do, etc. The songs I'm listing were often inspiration for getting into the characters' heads (and STILL are, if you like to speculate), or just for fun, or sometimes even for individual scenes. That said, if you feel my list is a little too easy on the ears for the most part, it's because I was going for mood/lyrics a lot of the time :P

So I invite you all, if you do happen to go out and listen to any one (or a handful) of these songs during the long wait for the epilogue, to reply to this chapter with your own 'match-up' between the song and the chapter/scene where you see it fitting :D It will make me SO happy. Consider this a challenge. Songs marked with an asterisk are ones that I felt are particularly applicable, so consider them a recommendation of sorts if you can't pick one – though that is also an even bigger challenge to deviate from the easy trail…

**From Hope's Perspective **(oh there are SO many…sorry it's kinda one-sided. Artists' names are underlined, with songs listed below):

Our Lady Peace

In Repair (duh)

Right Behind You

Love and Trust*

All You Did Was Save My Life*

The End Is Where We Begin

4 AM*

Don't Stop

Apology

Do You Like It

Snow Patrol (his voice is gorgeous and very much romantically inspiring)

Hands Open* (more harsh, but this one was about lyrics)

Run

If There's A Rocket Tie Me To It*

Set Down Your Glass*

Chocolate

Grazed Knees*

Just Say Yes

Crack the Shutters

Angels and Airwaves (not so much voice, but lyrics for sure)

Love Like Rockets*

Secret Crowds

Lifeline

A Little's Enough*

Start the Machine (esp. the last section of lyrics *wink*)

Everything's Magic

Good Day

The Gift

Breathe

Stroke 9 (mostly fun heehee)

Washin' + Wonderin'

The Yeah Song

7 Year Itch

Barenaked Ladies

One Week (yeah, it's an older song but I love it)

Am I The Only One?

Lifehouse

All In

Falling In

Boys Like Girls

Hero/Heroine

Five Minutes to Midnight

Thunder

Rob Thomas

Hard On You

Give Me the Meltdown

Someday

Matchbox Twenty

You're So Real

Downfall

Blue October

Everlasting Friend

Balance Beam (honestly, kinda sounds like Snow giving him advice)

Say It

Jason Mraz

I'm Yours

Incubus

Echo

Sister Hazel

Beautiful Thing

The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

Your Guardian Angel

Step Right Up*

No Spell

Keane

Bend and Break

Your Eyes Open

Matt Nathanson

Come On Get Higher

Train

If It's Love

July for Kings

Champagne

Meteor Flower

Anberlin

The Resistance (more overarching plot-related)

Blame Me! Blame Me!

Haight Street

Cadence

Coldplay

The Message

Fix You

Maroon 5 (oh, because I _can_ – easy to see what these would help with :P )

Stutter*

Never Gonna Leave This Bed* (not the last part of the song, but the rest, especially the verses)

Give A Little More

Shiver

Little of Your Time

**From Light's Perspective** (I've done SERIOUS work to get her list longer – you may see a pattern in the type of female voice that helps me get into her head):

Loquat (awesome little band out of San Francisco)

Half-Assed Mechanic* (fits like a glove)

To The Floor* (awwwww on the last set of lyrics here)

Take It Back

There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

Comedown's Worse

Need Air

Tegan and Sara (a bit grating, but could be why it helped me with Lightning)

Are You Ten Years Ago* (not a pleasant song, it's about the lyrics)

I Know, I Know, I Know

Burn Your Life Down

Speak Slow

The Cure

The Con

Relief Next To Me*

Come On (kind of an intense one…almost didn't list it, but what the heck, it did apply)

Ingrid Michaelson (very, very smooth – like the female flip side to Snow Patrol)

Soldier* (just about speaks for itself)

Mountain and the Sea*

Are We There Yet*

Empty Bottle*

Breakable

Masochist (other female referenced here would be, in my mind, Lucil)

Die Alone*

Overboard*

Sort Of* (not so much the very end of the song, but oh so much the rest)

Morning Lullabies (actually _didn't _hear this one before the tent scene)

Everybody (so cute, I think it may fit Serah better)

Incredible Love (gonna go with 'sultry')

Carolyn Dawn Johnson

Complicated

Colbie Caillat

What I Wanted to Say*

Oxygen*

You Got Me

The Little Things*

Fallin' For You

Magic

Aly & AJ

Chemicals React

**For Hope and Light together (artist in parentheses)**

The Saltwater Room (Owl City)*

Set Fire to the Third Bar (Snow Patrol/Martha Wainwright)

Sky (Joshua Radin, Featuring Ingrid Michaelson)


	21. Epilogue: Open Up

A/N: A couple of things – for one, this epilogue has become WAY too long. It's pretty much a fluffy piece unto itself, so perhaps if you view it that way you'll see why I just couldn't pare it down :P Secondly, I appreciate your patience in waiting this out, as I hit a particularly severe bout of writer's block over the holidays. This fic has been tons of fun, and the best part, hands-down, has been reading your reviews, so I would love to hear from you all one last time after getting through this epilogue. It might be just the push I need to continue writing these things :D Oh, and I do have a little bit of vocab!

*mixing valve/riser – I am no plumber, but based on information and diagrams that I found, the mixing valve is the part of the plumbing that combines the hot and cold water lines to the shower, and the riser is a pipe that goes up from that valve to the shower head. Because the HAZMAT shower is a portable unit, however, the plumbing would not be preset, nor concealed within a wall.

(revised 01OCT11)

Epilogue: Open Up (your heart)

"Ahh! You just stabbed me in the head with that thing!" Lightning exclaimed, hands in a flurry above her head to arrest the offending object.

Serah giggled, easily dodging the attack and going right back to business on her sister's half-done hair. The bulk of it was twisted and wound up the side of her head decoratively, but several shorter pieces and wispy ends tended to fly wherever they naturally bent. Serah would have none of it.

"Don't be a baby, Sis – this is all part of the beautification process."

"One more reason to circumvent that process with my uniform."

"Well, since that old thing is temporarily out of the picture, I won't have your hair looking blah while the rest of you looks spectacular," Serah refuted, her grin reflected in the mirror as she eyed the long-sleeved, knee-length wrap dress. "Besides, I'm only getting married once, you know."

_That's the whole point of marriage, isn't it?_

"I don't doubt it," Lightning said plainly. She pulled at the fabric where it tied on the side, still marveling at how much more uncomfortable it was to be wearing a single closely-fitted layer, even of heavy knit material, than two layers. "And then you'll have ten kids – I'll be forced to reenlist for some peace and quiet."

Serah suddenly let out a little yelp of pain, dropping the decorative pin and sucking on her finger. "Ow, ow, ow. Lebreau warned me that they were sharp! Now I need a bandage before I get blood on my dress!" She looked around frantically for another object to secure the carefully twisted and placed lock of hair.

_Must be pre-wedding anxiety. Not sure I've ever seen Serah this jumpy._

"Sis, can you hold this for a minute?" she pleaded.

"Got it." Lightning did her best to hold up the hair exactly as it was while her sister rushed out of the bunker, leaving the soldier to her thoughts. Pondering the impending whirlwind of social activity was sure to give her a headache if the hair pins didn't do the job first. Still, she had to admit feeling a sense of pride over how everything had worked out for Serah.

It had to be the strangest wedding arrangements ever conceived, but considering the narrow four month window since the armistice and the disagreeably icy onset to winter on Pulse, Lebreau had done a bang-up job putting it all together. Everyone else had been deeply involved in organizing round one of the chaos of force combination along with mass production and distribution of viral treatment.

The hangar was the only indoor space large enough to accommodate Serah's and Snow's gargantuan guest list – neither of them could seem to leave anyone off. Lightning's entire chain of command was going to be in one room. In fact, _everyone_ she knew was coming, in addition to her own squadron and a number of less familiar members from Vargus' and Lucil's outpost unit and the medical staff with whom she was just getting acquainted. On the upside, the nature of the occasion made it perfect for bringing a number of important military personages together for a non-work-related social event.

_Morale boosting and all that…_

Travel and lodging accommodations for the guests were even more absurd than converting the hangar into a banquet hall. Not having enough pilots or transports wasn't something to which the former rebel force had given much thought, not that it would have done any good – there simply weren't enough ships or parts to justify bigger plans, military or otherwise, whether more pilots trained or not. As a result, Hope, Sazh, Maqui, and one PSICOM pilot had been swamped flying the only three Pulsian model transports and one Cocoon ship all over the region for days to bring in guests, from as far away as Aerma village and the Cocoon settlement. Essentially, that meant more of those months' same routine for transporting military personnel on official business or remedy shipments, but all at once rather than in shifts. Hope was running himself ragged.

And the work never seemed to be finished. Had he not been so obsessive over the hangar and insisted on getting involved at every possible chance with the wedding party invading his space, he might have had time to rest. _They_ could have rested. Now, Hope was Maker knew where doing Maker knew what with his tools, even into the final few hours before the main event.

But Lightning had developed a fairly accurate system for filling in the unknowns of his schedule by simply observing the room. She looked over to the neatly-organized collection of shelves lining two and a half of the bunker's six walls – the toolbag from the fourth shelf on the long wall, left-center position, was missing, as were his coat, cap, and gloves.

_Well, he's obviously outside, and with that set… installing fixtures?_

Momentarily confused, Lightning turned back to the mirror, still faithfully holding up the section of hair Serah had been arranging. It hadn't been enough to get her into a dress with a more plunging neckline. No, her sister had to insist on sweeping the comforting trail of her hair up and out of the way as well. Lightning's entire arm began to tingle with numbness, and she glanced impatiently at the alarm clock on the bedside table/utility shelf, wondering how much longer her sister would take.

Suddenly, the lights in the room flickered and died. Panicked footsteps ran along the floor above Lightning's head for the few seconds of darkness before the lights came back on, and she had a sneaking suspicion that the incident was directly tied to whatever Hope was up to. Lightning finally relinquished the hold on her hair, grabbing the sweater he had thrown off that morning and wrapping it around her dress before pulling her boots back on to check out the situation. Beautification was as boring as it was painful, anyway.

She found out why Serah had been held up immediately upon exiting the stairwell. She and Snow appeared to be cornered by a crowd of early arrivals – guests who 'volunteered' to help with preparation but really just wanted to catch up on lost time. Snow's voice carried over the group, but even then she could not make out what was being said over the commotion of setting up everything.

Adding to the liveliness of the scene, Dajh was strutting his giant pet around the room – it had been a difficult compromise to let the chocobo stay in the hangar during the snowy season, but Hope couldn't turn the boy down. Lightning had been witness to Dajh's expertise in pulling off the puppy dog look with those huge brown eyes, and she didn't blame Hope for caving.

"Get Chaz offa the aisle runner right this _second_!" Sazh shouted across the room, and the boy jumped in his seat atop the chocobo, steering the bird off to the left with a loud "KWEH!" of protest and upsetting a couple of chairs in the process.

The actual work crew that Lebreau had organized was bustling all over the hangar to make final touches, spreading cloths on tables and tying juniper boughs onto chairs set up over two-thirds of the massive room for the reception, or arranging seats longwise across the center third for the ceremony, along either side of an aisle leading from the main east entrance to the platform directly in front of the west side double doors. It was a clever arrangement – even if there weren't enough chairs for all the guests to view the ceremony directly, which was inevitable, they could spill into the reception area and view from either side. As the mastermind NORA girl had explained, those seats in the central section would be cleared after the ceremony and relocated to tables, also making room for a dance floor.

_This setup was deviously orchestrated to make a spectacle of me, I swear. But not without a fight._

"Lightning!" Lebreau called excitedly, running over from the half-decorated refreshments table with a notepad in one hand and a half-full glass in the other. "Crazy power outage nearly made me pour wine all over the floor! I need another opinion on a few—hey, wait, what's with the sweater? You agreed to wear that dress, by _itself_, and proper shoes – _not_ boots! – and I won't stand for any backing out this close to—"

"I'm not backing out," Lightning huffed, "I'm going outside. Tell Serah I went to check on something, and I'll be right back. She'll have to fix _this_ later." Lightning pointed at the loose section of hair draping down the back of her neck as she walked quickly toward the east exit.

Lebreau yelled after her, "It's kinda cute like that, but I'll tell her anyway!"

Try as she might, Lightning couldn't stay annoyed with the crew of friends that formed her sister's support system. Every time she got riled up, they would throw in a kind word or do something to remind her how much Serah depended on them – and more recently, how much she depended on them herself.

Crossing the room, a number of now-recognisable faces greeted Lightning on her way to the doors, and she waved back automatically. It was still a strange concept to be closely connected with such a large group of people that didn't always answer to a single source of authority, but _did_ answer to each other. She had believed for many weeks after the armistice that she was a 'friend' by proxy, accepted by the entire command because of her relationship with Serah or with Hope, and that made logical sense considering all those two had shared with their companions over the years. There were connections she simply could never go back and forge.

And for a while, part of that sense of disconnection had even bled into her relationship with Hope. On every interpersonal level, Lightning had settled into a comfortable status quo like she settled into her broken-in boots, until the day her position was drastically, forcibly changed in its most vulnerable area.

The day her 'private life' was compromised.

* * *

_-Thirteen weeks after the armistice, mid-morning-_

"Is there a point to this exercise?" Lightning asked, irritated at the last minute notice, but more for another reason she was trying not to acknowledge. They stood in front of the training field on the main base in newly-issued all-weather coats and heavier uniforms of the winter season, waiting for the outpost unit's members to filter out of the PSICOM transport and form up.

Lucil had the look again – the one reserved for Lightning's questions. It didn't matter how reasonable the inquiry. She would smirk, and her expression always read "Silly girl…" whether or not she thought as much in actuality.

"Unless otherwise stated," Lucil said with mock condescension, "all exercises serve the purpose of building 'morale'." Then, outright laughing, she threw in her own two cents. "Good ol' military catch-all. And there are occasional benefits, or else really sucky disadvantages, to having that reason as justification."

Lightning just shook her head. "I have yet to see a benefit."

"What are you talking about? Today, we have the privilege of familiarizing the PSICOM half of my unit with the base – every single part of it. I mean, these poor guys are thirteen weeks new to the command! They have no _idea_ where to buy supplies, where to get the best food, where to unwind…"

It was easy to follow Lucil's train of thought. "Just promise that the pub is a final stop. _After_ duty hours," Lightning said firmly.

"Only if you promise to stick around and have a little fun." While she sounded friendly, it was clear that Lucil's stance would be firm on the issue. Lightning had a sudden feeling of déjà vu, and recalled facing a similar easy-going but forthright personality in her former superior from Bodhum, and again with Fang.

_Thanks for the practice run, guys._

"Remind me again how I got roped into helping _your _unit with the guided tour," Lightning muttered, dodging the impending obligation to 'hang out.'

"Like you had anything better to do today, or tonight," Lucil fired back, but at Lightning's response – or conspicuous lack of one, more accurately – she changed her tune. "Oh, so you _did_ have plans. Too bad duty calls, Sergeant Grumpy-gills."

_Yeah, Hope's just coming back from a week's worth of non-stop flights. No big deal. _

"Name-calling isn't going to help your case. It's unprofessional." Lightning took out her gunblade and extended it, checking the components for nonexistent buildup in an effort to clear her head of the negative thoughts.

Lucil was unmoved. If anything, her grin widened. "I see the stick is still firmly in place. Seriously, loosen up – I'm not going to report you for being less-than-stone-faced. Friends don't _do_ that."

Mildly stunned by that declaration, Lightning blinked her wide eyes. When Lucil showed interest in her gunblade, she handed it over, wondering what the other sergeant was puzzling over.

"Something's weird about your retraction mechanism. What did you do to it?" she asked, turning the blade over before testing the transition back to its gun form in one rapid, fluid motion. "Nice! Whatever it was, I _like_ it!"

"Hope modified it for me," Lightning explained quietly. "Why don't you ask him to fix yours?"

Lucil hefted the weapon, running a hand over the barrel. Uncharacteristically dying down in her enthusiasm, she didn't seem too keen on the idea. "Nah, that's okay. He's really too busy for anything else right now. Maybe I'll ask at a better time, eventually." She absently passed the gunblade back without even glancing Lightning's way, straightened up from her relaxed position against a supply crate and headed toward the nearly complete formation of PSICOM sentries.

_What happened? Did I insult her weapon? No, she wouldn't be pretentious about that. Maybe she's just disappointed._

"Wait, Lucil," Lightning said, taking hold of her shoulder. "I could ask him for you. I know he wouldn't mind – he loves fine-tuning projects."

Shrugging, she walked on. "I'll think about it. For now, let's get on with the tour." The subject was closed for the better part of the day.

* * *

By the time they had finished with the dedicated military facilities and moved on to the commercial district, Lucil was back to her old self, pointing out her favorite shops and taking questions from the unit at every turn. The sentries had never been part of a command that included civilian components and an integrated dependent community – PSICOM was strictly military as a rule. Their eagerness and curiosity fueled a never-ending stream of requests for more information, despite the odd looks directed at them from a number of shopkeepers and customers along the way; had the sentries' helmets not been removed, it would undeniably have been worse. Lightning was content to just observe both sides of the phenomenon and offer a supplementary bit of information here and there.

_Now I see why she wanted me to come along: crowd control._

The hangar was the structure farthest north on base, and therefore their final point of interest before heading back to the Vestige as Lucil planned. But at 1430, they still had an hour and a half before duty hours expired.

"Come _on_, Farron," Lucil pleaded in a hushed voice, taking her aside from the group momentarily. "It'll only be forty-five minutes early by the time we get to the pub. And it's _Friday_. Have a heart."

Lightning would have none of it. "_No_. I won't be responsible for any incidents that result from drinking 'on duty,' even if it's by technicality. Why can't we just give them a tour of the hangar?"

"You're kidding, right?" There was the look again. "Hope never leaves the hangar unlocked when he's gone, and the only other people with access are Sazh and Maqui, who are _also_ gone. So we might as well hit the road." Lucil looked so pleased with herself that Lightning almost didn't want to burst her bubble. But she did anyway.

Reaching into her coat pocket, Lightning produced a ring of keys and flipped to a brassy one with an 'H' carved into one side that would open the smaller south entrance to the building. She held it up in front of Lucil as proof.

"Can't open the main entrance, but it's not like we need to taxi a ship in there," Lightning said, preparing to head toward the door to the southernmost section of the hangar. A fleeting, mystified look passed across the other sergeant's face.

Lucil cleared her throat. "Guess that settles it, then," she muttered.

"Don't look so down about it," Lightning said, trying to improve her friend's sharply negative turn. "I promise I won't take off from the pub for a little while, if that helps."

Sighing, Lucil motioned for the unit to join them. "Sure, it helps. Lead the way," she replied. The smile wasn't too convincing.

Lightning gave the group a fairly thorough tour of the hangar, excepting the bunker. She was almost certain Hope would not have approved of that invasion of his personal space.

_I __don__'__t __approve __myself, __not __with __so __much __of __my __stuff __lying __around_.

Even with the extra diversion of the largest structure on base, it took less than half an hour to cover the purpose and parts of the facility, inside and out, and they were on track to arrive at Lebreau's pub early anyway.

"Aren't you glad you decided to see things my way?" Lucil remarked as they stepped inside the Vestige, meandering toward the bar. Apparently, the change of scene had done wonders for her mood – she went from mildly gloomy to energized in no time.

Lightning lagged behind in that particular brand of energy, the kind that fed on social situations. "More likely to regret it," she muttered, taking a stool next to the very thirsty sergeant and resting her chin on a hand. "Not even sure what you hope to accomplish with such a limited selection of drinks."

"Quantity over quality, my friend." Lucil flagged Lebreau down and asked for two of 'the usual' before turning to Lightning again. "Ever had a Chu-hi?"

"No. Should I have?"

Lebreau was back in a flash with the two drinks – they were suspiciously colorful. Sliding the frosted glasses over the counter, she tweaked an eyebrow at Lightning and tilted her head toward Lucil. "Don't let this crazy red-head drink you under the table, now. Consider yourself warned."

_Doubt that her tolerance is higher than mine. Game on._

"Thanks," Lightning replied as a courtesy, "but I'll be fine."

Testing the bright green beverage, she knew somewhere in the back of her mind that the exceptionally sweet flavor and fizziness was a deceptive cover-up for a fairly strong drink, or at least one that took the express train to a person's head. Three or so Chu-hi's later, Lightning began to find Lucil's conversation inordinately fascinating, more so than the competition of tossing back drinks, and after one more she couldn't stop herself from full-on participating in the dialogue. It wasn't long before things drifted to the dominant subject of Lightning's mind and took the inevitable turn for the worse.

"'Not absolutely sure?' What the hell kind of answer is that?" Lucil said, a little too emphatically.

Defenses down, Lightning felt the impact of that accusation and reacted impulsively. "I-I don't know, the truth?"

"_Was_ it true?"

"I don't know, okay! What should I have said?"

Even somewhat inebriated, Lucil gave her the 'stupid question' look clear as day and immediately replied, "'Yes!' _That__'__s_ what you should have said! It's Hope, for crying out loud! And if that _isn__'__t_ the truth, we have a problem, Farron."

"I told you to call me Light," she shot back, frustrated. "All my friends do."

"I know. I got that. But there's a little conflict of interest here, and I aim to straighten it out right now." For seeming so tipsy before, Lucil sounded awfully serious.

_What does she expect from me? And what happened to 'loosening up'?_

Sighing, Lucil pushed the empty glass away and faced her, and it was in that moment that Lightning realised she had met her match. There was no way that 'crazy redhead' was anywhere near as far gone as herself.

_Must be a special tolerance for these colorful whatever-they-are's. Crap._

"I thought the goal was having a little fun," Lightning offered, swirling around the remaining liquid and ice in the bottom of her glass and hoping the mood would lighten up again.

"Yeah, it's all fun and games until someone gets hurt," Lucil said. "So I need you to listen up and answer straight, because I won't be asking again. What is Hope to you?"

Lightning laid her head on the counter and groaned inwardly, making a valiant effort to sift through the muddle of thoughts and feelings surrounding her nebulous image of Hope.

_Somewhere between a friend and a lover… No, that sounds terrible. Just a cliché cop-out answer. There has to be a better way to explain this._

She sat up again and cleared her throat. "Look, maybe-maybe I could call it… _love_, but that seems so unstable. People say they love each other, and then it's like they've set a timer till everything blows up and it's over. They find out they aren't compatible, or that the feelings were just a product of circumstances, and they end up leaving over someone else or just breaking it off. I've seen it plenty of times in the military, _believe _me, and I don't want that to happen. Not with Hope."

"Hmm," Lucil considered, "so what you're telling me is that saying you love someone is pretty much jinxing the relationship, and it's probably not true anyway."

The rationality in her conclusion could not be denied. "I guess so, yeah."

"Why the hell did you believe Hope, then?" Lucil asked slyly.

Lightning had no idea how to respond to that one, and she stammered, "I didn't say— I mean it's not the same thing! We're talking about Hope, here. He'd never lie about something like that."

"Not sayin' that's not true, but come on – you've gotta admit that it's because you _want_ to believe him, even if it's doomed to failure according to that whole 'love is unstable' load of crap you just gave me. So go ahead. Admit it." The triumphant look on Lucil's face was a powerful deterrent.

And it put Lightning on the defensive. "Why should I?"

"Because if you won't, you might as well break his heart. I know you don't want that."

"Of course I don't!" Lightning exclaimed, slamming a fist onto the counter and rattling the glass. "I just got finished explaining to you how telling Hope I love him would probably come full circle and do just _that_! Unless I take a little more-more time, make sure this is undeniably 'love' – you know, like Snow and Serah mean 'love' – I'd rather not risk it. Is that good enough for you?"

Lucil backed off the pressure and finished the last of her drink over the few seconds of contemplation, but was clearly not satisfied. "Almost," she said quietly, "but I don't really think time is going to change anything, considering it's been nearly three months since you were 'not _absolutely_ sure,' and I seriously doubt you're staying in the barracks anymore." At those last words, her eyes glinted with the promise of a challenge.

"So I have a little proposal to settle this."

"Let's hear it." Exasperated, Lightning honestly liked the prospect of getting out of the emotional gray zone, by force if necessary.

"Alright," Lucil began, lacing her fingers and stretching her arms out in front of her. "Let's say that I currently have a little advantage over you – just enough to maybe even the odds between us in a sparring match. I propose we get out of here and have that match. Best two out of three wins, and the winner makes the choice."

"What choice?"

"Of whether you grow a spine and tell Hope you're in love with him. If I win, you're biting the bullet. Deal?" Lucil extended her hand to cinch it, not even reacting to Lightning's dropped jaw.

"What makes you think I even—"

"I _said_, deal? Don't tell me you're that afraid of losing…"

_Curse every competitive bone in my body… all two hundred and six of them._

Lightning finally relented, firmly shaking the offered hand once. "Deal. But that means if I win, you have to drop this and not bring it up again. Ever."

"Sure. Training field in fifteen minutes?" Lucil was already off the stool and leaving some change for the tab.

"It isn't that far of a walk," Lightning remarked.

Laughing as she passed by with coat in hand, Lucil merely said, "In ten, then. Hope you sober up fast." Before exiting, she turned to announce curfew once again to the unit's remaining members in the bar, and with a flash of red, she was out the door.

* * *

The training field was obscured in dusk, its far edge lit unevenly by the lights along the adjacent barracks buildings. Lightning crossed to one of the illuminated areas where Lucil was already waiting, testing her gunblade and simultaneously loosening her shoulders in preparation. Following suit, Lightning shrugged off the coat and laid it aside, then extended her own blade – even with her center of balance wavering from the alcohol, it felt completely natural to maneuver the weapon. In fact, it felt much more stable than walking had, and the crisp, chill air was further exhilarating.

Just as the silence of warming up had begun to feel uncomfortable, Lucil announced the terms for victory. "Okay. Best two out of three – disarming is a win, or alternately forcing a fatal position. I'm sure it's nothing new to you."

Lightning gave the gunblade a final swing and brought it to the ready. "Brings back memories."

"Well in that case, enjoy." Taking a more defensive stance, Lucil called the start.

Lightning immediately charged forward, sliding down and swinging low toward the ankles in an attempt to force her opponent's move. It was a success, and Lucil struggled to keep a step ahead, blocking direct blows from the faster weapon while she narrowly avoided the kicks and added acrobatics Lightning continuously wove in as they crossed blades. It wasn't long before Lucil misjudged the timing on a back-hand slice, and Lightning's foot caught her wrist with enough force to dislodge the gunblade and send it tumbling to the dust.

Despite victory in the first round, the twisting maneuvers and glare of the lights around them were beginning to have more of an effect on Lightning, and she felt dizzier going into the second round than she would have liked to admit. Those factors, coupled with Lucil's catching on quickly to her patterns, put Lightning at a distinct disadvantage. It wasn't four moves into the match when she tripped backward after a flip, landing on the ground still armed, but with a crimson blade at her throat.

"Match," Lucil said smugly. "Guess we have the pleasure of a third."

They took their time in the final round. The first thirty seconds or so were spent searching for weaknesses and planning an approach for both parties before either one of them made a move. Deviating from the norm, Lucil suddenly lunged from an awkward angle – while Lightning easily side-stepped the attack, she was unnerved by the pace that had been set. Generally, she preferred to make the first move. Turning, she crossed blades with Lucil three times before trying a kick to the off-hand side, an almost predictable play, the motions automatic—

—and felt her leg arrested by the trouser fabric and jerked abruptly forward, upsetting her previously inhibited balance and momentarily forcing her to forget the blade in her hand while she got her bearings. In that split second, Lucil relinquished her own gunblade and grappled Lightning's sword arm with both hands, twisting the forearm as she pulled in and delivered a knee to the diaphragm, and then snatched the weapon that Lightning unwittingly released as she flinched from the combined assault.

_Foiled by winter wear. I'm never complaining about the uniform skirt ever again. _

Winded from the struggle but smirking victoriously, Lucil looked down at the captured gunblade, giving it a couple of test swings before she offered it back to its owner. "Think I'll add something to my terms…"

_Maker, what more do you want? I've already been humiliated…_

"Not exactly in a position to refuse," Lightning said blankly, wiping the beads of sweat from her forehead and concentrating on maintaining her dignity somehow. That was a tall order, what with being half-drunk, disarmed, bested in a sparring match, and soon to be emotionally exposed.

Lucil smiled ruefully. "Tell Hope you love him, but first… ask him to modify my gunblade, too. I get the feeling he'll miss it altogether if you make the request after dropping the line of all lines."

"Understood."

_Would fulfilling just the last half of the terms be so wrong?_

* * *

Fortunately for Lightning – or possibly to her detriment – the long walk back to the hangar was less sobering than the situation demanded. She considered the stupidity of taking Lucil up on that challenge in such a state and felt irritable at intervals over having lost, but was unable to fully process the ramifications of what she was about to do. Not surprisingly, Lightning felt more uneasy over the terms than she had thirty minutes before, but the lump of dread in her stomach was being cushioned by the warm, settling feeling of a pretty strong buzz, kept in check only by the surrounding cold. Yes, panic would come, but it wouldn't be for a solid hour or so.

Stumbling into the south entrance, Lightning struggled getting the key back into the lock to secure the door behind her and growled in agitation as she realised that it was pointless to bother with it – Sazh and Maqui would be using the place later anyway. She shoved the key-ring back into her pocket and headed into the main hangar.

The transport was back in its usual spot on the north end, and her whole being felt a little lighter at the sight. It didn't sound like Hope was out and about though, a confusing break in his routine. He normally would spend at least a couple of hours doing follow-up maintenance after an extended trip, and it was only 1945 by her watch. Hope could not have been back for more than an hour, not with the lingering smell of fuel still in the air. And so Lightning went instinctively to the bunker.

Starting from the base of the stairs, assorted tools in and out of bags, pieces of outerwear, and random parts left a little trail announcing Hope's presence in his living space. Lightning picked her way through the sudden explosion of clutter to the back of the room. She grinned unreservedly at the sight.

Hope stood on a basic A-frame ladder, partly behind the HAZMAT shower which had been pulled away from the wall, surrounded by pieces of pipe, little cans of solvent cement, and fittings as he reached up to reattach what appeared to be the back of the original showerhead. His impossible-to-miss yellow boxers had been exposed a bit from the combined pull of the tool-belt around his cargo pants and the rise of his hooded sweater as he stretched. When Lightning tripped on a stray section of pipe on the way over, he visibly jumped on the step, rattling the ladder, and looked over abruptly.

"Light?" he called, startled but obviously pleased by the look on his face as he lifted the safety goggles up onto his head. "I was wondering when you'd show."

Lightning wasn't too confident in what sort of response might be forthcoming, so she opted to sit on the floor and lean back against the foot of the bed. She shrugged, losing the smile.

"Yeah, sorry I'm late," she offered softly, distantly aware that she was staring and doing a horrible job of hiding the tumult of emotions that wracked her mind.

_What am I doing? I don't think I can handle this…_

His expression had become troubled, likely influenced by her oddly lingering gaze. "Geez, you have a long day?"

"I umm…" Lightning began, clearing her throat and concentrating on enunciation as she looked down at her hands, "ended up hanging out with Lucil for a while after work."

Unexpectedly, Hope simply studied her for a few moments before chuckling, then cracking up. "Oh _no_…" He dropped the wrench he had been using to secure the riser pipe as he clung to the ladder, getting bursts of words out in between the bouts of laughter. "Should've known it was… _bound_ to happen! Did she _time_ this?" Finally, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes, he settled down. "Let me guess. Chu-hi's? How many?"

Had Lightning had her wits about her, she would have spent more time dwelling on the reason behind his reaction, but in that decently-buzzed state, she focused on answering the much easier question instead.

"Four, I think, or was it five? Stupid sugary things really packed a punch."

Hope was still grinning ridiculously. "Impressive – guess the sugar high's keeping you together. I made it to seven once. I'd tell you all about it, if I remembered." He climbed down, stripped off the work gloves and walked over to Lightning, folding down onto his knees right in front of her.

"Feel sick?" he asked gently, helping her out of the all-weather coat, letting it drop off behind her. He placed a hand on her forehead, and then carefully against her stomach.

Still touchy from the sting of one lost battle already, Lightning immediately snapped, "_No_. Should I?" Slowly but surely, she was beginning to come down from the high, and nausea had to be the lowest-priority concern on her mind – far, far behind losing that sparring match with Lucil and the requirements entailed.

"Not necessarily, but it's pretty common." Potential danger averted, Hope sat on his heels and easily dismantled the buckles of the vest over her turtleneck, giving Lightning a few teasing kisses as he did so.

"Mmm… green apple. Good choice on the flavor," he said, continuing to rein in the passion she could feel coursing under the surface. What she wanted – still, so many weeks later – was for him to let go and break past the flimsy barriers that remained, past the most recently readjusted 'line.' To that end, Lightning got to her knees as well, driving home a more fervent point with her mouth as her hands found their way around him and up under his sweater and undershirt, cold fingers crossing warm skin and eliciting a shiver.

Just when she was starting to lose her train of thought and give in to careless foreplay, Hope backed off, but hesitantly so.

"Don't," he said in a breathy voice, "take this… the wrong way, but I need to… finish that pipe connection first."

Perturbed, Lightning held on tighter. "What on Pulse could go wrong in the next few minutes?" It was infinitely easier to deal with Hope's body than his heart, and she could feel that blessed distraction slipping through her fingers.

_Couldn't be worth making me think about what I need to say._

Hope had to practically pry her free, explaining with a laugh, "Honestly, I just wanted to get a shower in – you know, wash off the engine smell. That's all." He sprang up quickly and returned to the ladder.

"If I cared, you'd know it by now. For the record, I _don__'__t_," Lightning grumbled, slouching back against the end of the bed.

Exhaling in mock impatience, Hope put his gloves back on, climbed the steps and got back to work. "It'll only take five minutes, I promise."

Lightning set the timer on her watch, and the start button beeped as she pressed it. "I suggest you work efficiently, then."

"You're seriously going to—? Fine," Hope muttered. He took the first three and a half minutes tightening the connections with the back of the shower before speaking again. "Light, I'll need you to help me with something to make that deadline. Do you know where the shut-off valve is for the waterline, upstairs?"

"That unsightly blue wheel sticking out of the wall?" she asked pointedly.

"Hey, don't rag on the color-coding – but yeah, that's the one. I need you to climb through the hatch and turn it once all the way, then back a quarter-turn. Gotta see if these seals hold."

Lightning stood, steadying herself briefly against the footboard. "On my way," she said, taking the few steps to the escape ladder and climbing cautiously up to the already-loosened hatch, pushing it open to crawl out. Once in the hangar, she approached the large, blue hand wheel and gave it what felt like a solid turn. A few seconds later, water could be felt surging full-force through the connected pipes.

Hope shouted from below, "It's good, Light! You can come back down!"

But by the time she had gotten down the stairs and through the room, intending to make good on that five minute promise, the situation had changed drastically. Already off the ladder, Hope gripped the piping fiercely with a hand towel from his position against the back of the shower and called out for assistance, but it was clearly too late. The pressurized water in the pipe had begun to spray from connections around the mixing valve, and when Lightning reached the base of the escape ladder to attempt another climb up to secure the source, a shower of steaming water burst from the fittings, spraying outward and upward to rain over them both in that cramped end of the room. It thoroughly drenched Hope as he backed away hastily and sloshed through the growing puddle between the escape hatch and the HAZMAT shower.

Shortly after she started the climb, Lightning's hands slipped on a slick rung and she felt herself being caught by the waist and swept aside as Hope rushed by, scrambling up through the hatch to cut the flow. She cursed her slowed reaction time and retreated out of the spray zone, but couldn't shake the sudden questions that filled her head.

_Oh __no. __Did __I __give __that __valve __the __quarter __turn __back? __And __since __when __do __we __have _hot _water?_

Moments later, it was over. As soon as Hope had reentered the back of the room, soaked and looking soundly beaten by his project, Lightning stepped up to him and took his hands. As she pulled the wet gloves from them, feeling a little guilty at her part in the mess, he muttered under his breath, "Not quite what I had in mind for that shower."

She looked up from his hands to his face. "Hope, what were you trying to do, anyway?"

"_Not_ flood the bunker, obviously, while installing the line from the water heater," he replied self-consciously, seeming unsure when Lightning began to lift up his dripping sweatshirt from the back.

"Right," she replied, and tugged the bulk of it over Hope's head as he bent down. "The water heater that's been here since…?"

"Since I brought it down from the settlement a while ago," he admitted reluctantly, pulling off the sleeves himself before escaping a few steps to hang the hoodie on a hook next to the tiny closet to dry. "It's been an ongoing project. I know you said you were used to cold showers, and you really didn't care, but you have no _idea_ how cold it gets down here in the winter, and I kind of assumed… Light?"

With a firm, steadying grip on the nearest shelf, she had frozen in place, still staring at him in disbelief and letting it all settle in her mind. There had been so many 'projects' like this, so many little things that she simply couldn't pay back. Not in equivalent terms, at least. The bunker was a far more organized place in recent weeks, conveniences cropping up here and there that she never recalled requesting: warmer blankets, more towels, a gunblade rack, a mirror over the desk… How he found the time to even bother with those sorts of things was beyond her.

It occurred to Lightning that he wasn't looking to be 'paid back.' He wanted her to be pleased, content – taken care of. That swelling sensation returned to her chest, even stronger than the day Bartholomew had spoken with her about the necklace, and she thought back to those months ago when she had been so afraid to lose Hope, back to what Snow had told her. It seemed so childish at the time, his romantic idea of the 'right moment.'

_So this is what that moment feels like. _

Without Lucil's extra shove, it could have been a missed opportunity – Lightning could have easily backed down, tucking the thoughts away to herself for safe keeping. Even having made up her mind, she felt the internal struggle to maintain a safe status quo rather than invite trouble. But she pushed through.

"Hope," she said finally, looking down from his puzzled face, "I…I meant to tell you something earlier."

"Something else wrong, besides the Chu-hi overload?" he asked with a half-smile, evidently nowhere near the point. "You seem a little more sober now."

_Wish I wasn't, just yet._

Lightning took a deep breath. "It's just… Lucil wanted to know if you could make the same improvements to her gunblade that you did to mine. I promised to ask."

"That's all?" Hope asked skeptically, tweaking an eyebrow, but she nodded. "Well, no problem there – just tell her to bring it by sometime in the next couple of days." He had removed his t-shirt and hurriedly ran a towel over his upper body and hair, but stopped to pull down a second towel from the nearby rack and hold it out to Lightning. "You should change, too. Unless you want to catch a cold."

Snapping to action with a start at the suggestion, she walked over and took the towel. It was hard enough to try and give her heart a voice, so Lightning simply continued to stumble along with more familiar protocol, managing a quiet request.

"Help me out?"

"Oh. Sure," Hope said easily, but she could tell he hadn't fully adjusted to their new level of intimacy yet. His hands were careful in slipping off the damp, unfastened vest, and even more so in dragging the zipper down the length of the familiar sleeveless turtleneck, but he smirked when his fingers brushed the navel ring just below.

"Haven't slept well since discovering this. You're full of surprises, Light – you _really_ are." Removing the sweater entirely, he tried and failed a couple of times not to let his eyes linger on the remaining black undergarment and ever-present pendant; he then hung the turtleneck on a hanger and reached up into the closet, going for her usual tank top.

"Wait." Lightning arrested his raised arm, swinging underneath it to face Hope and use the loops on his cargo pants to pull herself against him, a barrier to the closet. "Equal ground, right? It's fair."

_Trying to stick with the most recent rule. Progress is progress._

He couldn't help but give up and settle his hands on her hips, running his lips in a series of warm, soft kisses from her jawline to her shoulder. "I think this is a little too fair to _me_," Hope replied, "and I can put on a t-shirt, if you'd like."

"No, I like _this_," Lightning said into his neck, not that it was news to him. In fact, she felt the vibrations of a throaty laugh at that response, and heard it again at her glare of resistance as he grabbed the towel draped over her arm and rubbed it against her damp hair.

On the sporadic occasions they'd been fortunate enough to spend time together, he had adapted to strike a balance between their differing needs, something she was working to appreciate, however limiting it felt.

_Case in point: cock-blocking towel. Maybe things will change after tonight._

Leaning back to settle the towel on Lightning's shoulders and look her in the eyes, Hope teased, "Never would have guessed. How much do you like this, exactly?"

Lightning knew she was fast approaching the outer rim of that magical 'right time' window, and something had to be done. There was no backing down. She wrapped the towel around her, leaned against Hope, and swallowed the lump of fear.

"Let me rephrase. I love this – everything that's _you_." It was soft and simple, but Lightning buried her face in his neck at the last words, burning from that exposure, her pulse racing. She felt the effect travel through Hope with a jolt and heard the skipped beat of his heart.

_Guess I am full of surprises. Might as well keep it up._

* * *

-_Present, __pre-wedding-_

"Hope, there's a dead section about five meters to the right!" Bartholomew yelled up at the roof of the hangar. From Hope's perspective, his father was about the size of his thumbnail, standing there in his wool suit and overcoat at least fifteen meters below.

To Hope's left, Snuggles scratched around impatiently, not too keen on waiting for the work at hand to be completed. "Take it easy boy, we're almost done," Hope reassured the wyvern, tossing a treat his way and concentrating once again.

"My right or your right?" He shouted the question back down, readjusting his toolbelt in the process.

"_Your_ right!" came the reply, and Hope scooted cautiously along the roof's edge just shy of the southeast corner, stopping at approximately the correct location to pull up that section of the strand of bright, clear bulbs. Sure enough, five in a row were burned out, likely damaged from the sudden overload of electricity – it had been enough of a surge to temporarily interrupt the building's power. The voltage output regulator would have to be adjusted again.

As Hope carefully replaced the damaged bulbs with the remaining ones in his bag, he noticed with passing interest that someone had joined his father down below, but he sharpened his focus at the contrasting crimson fabric below the sweater and the flash of pink as said person glanced up to lock on to his eyes. He grinned.

_Light__… __so __you __did __end __up __going __with __red. _That's _what __perfection __looks __like._

"Oww!" he cried suddenly, cursing under his breath at the sharp jab to his finger from one bulb's broken glass casing. He was much more wary while finishing up, no longer looking to the distraction below.

Letting the now lit strand drop back to the line of the roof, Hope stood and slowly made his way through the thin but slippery layer of accumulated snow over to Snuggles. Only recently had the wyvern begun to accept a rider, and only in the last couple of weeks had he been comfortable with anyone other than Snow. Tentatively, Hope untied the leash and patted the giant pet's side, slinging the toolbag over his own shoulder and hoisting himself up onto Snuggles' back with only a single, sharp "Rrrak!" of complaint. Directing Snuggles with two firm slaps on the wyvern's neck, they took off and sailed down in a wide arc, stirring up flurries on the ground at touchdown. He tied Snuggles' leash onto the long-distance tether next to the building, tossing up a final treat before leaving Snow's pet.

Hope jogged across the packed snow to Lightning and his father. "So, what do you think?" he said excitedly.

"Flashy. Lebreau may kill you for making her almost spill that expensive wine in the dark, though," Lightning said casually, but she smiled. The biting air had given her cheeks a pleasant flush, completely unobstructed by her hair for once, and he fought the familiar impulse to take her in his arms.

_Wrong time, wrong place._

Instead, Hope removed his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders despite the little glare of protest she tried to communicate. Anything akin to public displays of affection was still challenging for her to accept, but she was coming around.

"Dad thinks it's a nice touch, don't you Dad?" he remarked, looking to Bartholomew for support.

Through his spectacles, Bartholomew was once again giving him the 'all-knowing father' look, the same expression he'd aimed at Hope for the past month whenever Lightning was around. It was always there, hidden behind even the most mundane and irrelevant conversations. Uncanny how his instincts had honed in on the situation.

_He knows. I'm sure of it._

"I can guarantee Serah will appreciate it, if she gets a spare second to escape that mob and come outside – the poor girl needs a break. On that note, she's got enough to worry about without knowing that your decorative lights caused the power surge, so I would keep it under your hat, son," he advised with a chuckle, starting to walk away. "Don't know about you two, but I'm getting out of this weather."

It had gotten progressively chillier since Hope started the project, and the hazy winter sun was far too weak to take off the edge. "Think he's got the right idea, Light," Hope said softly, taking her icy hand, a gesture that was generally allowed so long as they weren't in the middle of a group.

"Whatever." Lightning stubbornly refused to _be_ cold. "You need to get ready anyway. This particular look," she commented, tugging down the dark green cap to cover his ears, "as cute as it is, won't be wedding-compatible. And it's unsat for you to be comfortable while my head is being stabbed by pins."

"Fine," Hope agreed, sliding an arm around her waist. "I'll clean up nice for you, I promise. Minus the hair."

She let out an exasperated sigh. "I _like_ it messy. Shouldn't need to repeat myself."

* * *

Going around the building to enter the south door, it thankfully wasn't a challenge for them to circumvent the steadily growing commotion filling the entire hangar – most of which centered around the happy couple – and then head down the bunker's stairwell.

Lightning immediately cast aside her outer layers and returned to the chair in front of the mirror, trying in frustration to get the errant lock up into the rest of her twisted updo. Her intense concentration on bringing the hair under control made Hope want to laugh, but he squashed the impulse.

_Too many potential projectiles around her to risk that one._

Making good use of the time, he stripped down, showered, dried off and changed into slacks and a dark gray, button-down shirt before she finally let go of the hair in defeat.

"I give up!" she huffed, crossing her arms. "Damn it, this is the most pointless thing…" Lightning let the words die out when he approached from behind and lifted the section of hair to tuck it in smoothly with one of the back hairpins, her expression in the mirror shifting from aggravated to intrigued. Already making progress, he let his hands fall to her bare neck and tried lightly massaging some of the tension out, leaning down to whisper in her left ear.

"_I_ see a point." Hope watched the fire flare up behind her eyes in the reflection.

_That should do it. _

In his estimation, nothing was quite as gratifying as a successful change of mood when it came to Lightning. Hope did not consider himself a subject matter expert by any stretch of the imagination, but in his experience, the soldier essentially ran like his ship: in manual, he could influence her direction, in autopilot he was less than useless (and likely in the way), she did not come with a reverse function to back out of anything, and if something was broken he had to investigate the symptoms to find and fix it. The key difference was that Lightning could shift into autopilot at will, or even without thinking about it, something that certainly came in handy for her line of work, but on occasion made it difficult for Hope to get through to her. It took time and effort for him to figure out the best methods to keep her in manual, and subsequently help her to open up and relax.

Over the course of their short relationship, and particularly over the past few weeks, he'd discovered that the fastest way to accomplish that transition was deliberate physical contact.

_Honestly expected it to be more complicated, but who's complaining?_

So when Lightning spun round in the chair, stood lithely, slid her hands into his back pockets and kissed him passionately, Hope was far from surprised. And once again, it took him back to that first night, the night she quietly admitted that she loved him. He had wanted to immediately race upstairs, locate the proper radio equipment, and make a broadcast to the world in the overwhelming joy of that moment.

But of course, one thing had led to another. And another. And so on for the next month.

_Clumsy and wonderful. She must not have been let down…_

* * *

-_Thirteen weeks __after __the __armistice, __evening-_

"So you… love me," he stammered, still not believing his ears.

Lightning just nodded against him. They stood there like that for what seemed like hours, breathing in and out of rhythm, before Hope shivered involuntarily from the cold seeping into his remaining wet clothes. Lightning let go of the towel and reached down to undo his cargo pants.

"You should take these off," she suggested. "They're soaked."

Eyes widening with surprise, Hope swallowed hard. It was more than a simple request for him to change clothes – that much he could discern. She had been patient, and he saw no good reason to hold her back now.

_This should be interesting, as long as I don't screw it up._

It was fortunate that Snow had given him about a million pieces of advice over the years about women and sex (despite initial resistance from Serah), the most valuable being that first times are never, ever anything short of awkward. Though Hope had a sneaking suspicion that he was alone in the 'first' sense.

Furthermore, handling Lightning could not possibly have been the same as handling Serah, no matter how much Snow insinuated in his stories. Hope knew those things going into it, but he couldn't bring himself to care. They were already there, half-naked and cold from the shower incident. Letting go was effortless.

But as fascinating and exhilarating as that night was in its novelty, complete with a fair share of the anticipated awkwardness, his associated memories mainly consisted of a blurry mess of sensations. What Hope recalled most vividly was the next morning.

* * *

He had woken up on his back, exhausted, sore, and blinking at the ceiling as it came into focus. A blur of yellow caught his eye.

_What __the__… __Are __those __my__…__?_

They were. He wondered for a moment exactly how his boxers could have ended up on the ceiling, hung by a piece of the exposed metal grating above, but the warmth of smooth skin making unimpeded contact with his entire right side, beginning under the pink locks splayed over his shoulder, was explanation enough. Half a second later his face heated up at the recollection.

Lightning stretched out against him, her eyes fluttering open and lips curling into a smile. She lifted a hand to ruffle his hair.

"What on Pulse are you blushing about?" she mumbled, draping one leg completely over his hips.

"Oh, nothing," Hope replied with mild sarcasm. He glided his hand down the length of her back, hesitated, and kept going until his hand rested on the back of her thigh. "Would love to know how my boxers got stuck on the ceiling, though."

_They can stay there for all I care right now. How can someone so hardened be this soft?_

Lightning turned her face up, took in the sight, and let out a strangled laugh. Then she sat upright and looked around the room, her eyes finally landing on the black bra caught on the top of the HAZMAT shower. "Pretty sure it's the same way _that_ happened."

Fun aside, it took all of five seconds to fall back into foreplay on a Saturday morning in the privacy of one's own bed, but Hope winced when Lightning reached around his sides to pull herself over him.

"What? What's wrong?" she immediately asked, looking as confused as he felt.

"Good question." Hope shoved away the covers and sat up, inspecting the sore sites on both sides of his lower back, just above the hips. "Are those… bruises?"

_So playing with fire will get you burned, but playing with Lightning gets you… yeah, that makes sense._

When he looked up, Lightning's expression was pained, and she pushed the covers around the offending spots and backed away to the foot of the bed, gathering her knees to her chest. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Don't worry about it," Hope said, smirking. "I knew you had strong legs, but that's impressive. Serves me right for taking the top."

It was her turn to blush. "Tch, whatever you want, I guess."

The sudden change of tone was perplexing to Hope. "No, that's only half the equation," he responded, reaching toward her but retracting his hand at the invisible barrier he could feel in the air between them.

"Light, I'm not incompetent – I'm sure you've done this before, and maybe things are supposed to work differently than I thought. Honestly, I don't care what's typical. If you want something, just _tell_ me."

Looking guilty – whether over the previous harshness of her tone or the dredging up of past experiences, Hope couldn't be sure – Lightning leaned back against the footboard with her arms crossed, biting her lip.

"I'll tell you what's 'typical'," she said quietly. "Blame it on peer pressure, stress, my tendency to take on challenges – whatever you want – but yes, I slept with other guys a handful of times. I was eighteen and newly enlisted." For that brief second, Hope felt the tiniest pang of jealousy. But Lightning wouldn't meet his questioning eyes, and simply kept going.

"Anyway, I gave that up entirely by the end of the year once I discovered how soldiers like to talk to each other about their 'conquests', and that was the end of it. There's nothing more to say." She looked up after that, her eyes asking him silently to let it lie. In all fairness, the past was past, and Hope didn't want her to feel any worse than she already seemed to feel about it.

_Couldn't have been anything serious._

"Comparatively speaking then, if you don't mind my asking," Hope began apprehensively, "how was I?"

Smirking, probably at his uncertainty, Lightning simply replied, "Most things about men are pretty similar, but you know how to use your hands and I like your mouth. There's really no comparison."

His entire being burned with embarrassment and pride, simultaneously. In fact, the subsequent redness in his face didn't have a chance to diminish, for at that moment soft footsteps sounded at the base of the stairs, and seconds later Serah rushed around the scattered tools toward the back of the room, already visible from Hope's perspective at the head of the bed as she started into a conversation. He waved his hands and tried to call out for her to give him a minute, but it was too late.

_Stupid open door policy. Sazh must've unlocked the main entrance. My fault for not shutting the door to the bunker, though._

"Hope, you won't believe what happened at the lab this morning, but I had to come right down and tell you in person—" Her voice caught in her throat as she came in full view of the bed and noted the presence of a very shocked, very naked Lightning across from him on the covers, who'd barely had time to lean in and wrap her arms tightly around her knees for protection.

"Oh _Maker_, Sis! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" Her blue eyes were as wide as saucers as she covered her mouth, looked up to the ceiling at the yellow boxers, and then turned and fled from the scene. Initially, both Hope and Lightning were too stunned to speak, but it was almost as if the effect of the incident cancelled out the former tension between them. When they finally faced each other again, Hope shrugged.

"She'll live," he said casually, stretching. Lightning's face was much darker pink than her hair, but she looked up through tangled bangs with a half-smile and shook her head at his reaction – she didn't seem to have any intention of bolting.

"I take it you've been walked in on before," Lightning said frankly. "Not that you seem to care, considering the grotto."

Hope grinned mischievously. "Yeah, guess I got over it, somewhere between showering in random places and high fevers in the clinic. Either way, it's too cold to be an exhibitionist here." Chill bumps had formed on her arms and legs, so he extended his hands in invitation and she took them, letting him guide her back to the warm end of the bed.

_All things considered, that could have gone much worse._

* * *

-_Present, __in __the __bunker __shortly __before __the __wedding-_

Lightning absently wondered if the door was locked so she could be rid of the red obstruction of a dress – she nearly jumped out of her skin when their blissful period of time suspension was harshly interrupted by the buzz of static on Hope's transceiver.

"Hope, come in!" Maqui's voice shouted over the device. "Where the hell are you?"

She was tempted to grab the transceiver from his belt and fling it violently across the room, but she kept the desire in check, breaking contact and backing away resolutely so Hope could take the call.

_Something had better be on fire. _

He held up the radio and pressed the PTT button, but he still clutched the gathered fabric on the side of her dress with his free hand. "Maqui, what _is_ it?"

"That surge tripped the breaker connected to my sound equipment for the reception music, and I lost my key to the control room, so I need you in here ASAP! Serah will kill me if I screw this up!" he said in a rush, probably hopping around with anxiety on the other end. Sensing the inevitable, Lightning took the initiative to cover her tracks and button up Hope's woolen shirt.

"How did you already _lose_… nevermind. I'll be there in five," Hope said curtly, replacing the transceiver on his belt.

When he looked at her again as he tucked the shirt back into his slacks, both his expression and tone softened. "Sorry about this, Light. Raincheck?"

_Like I can say no to that face._

"Gotta love those," she sighed, not so much expecting the level of intensity in the kiss Hope delivered before releasing her to rush up the escape ladder, and it left her lower lip tingling and her head reeling. Lightning collapsed back into the chair and let her heart rate settle.

She barely noted the new presence when Bartholomew walked into the bunker not one minute later.

"Am I interrupting something, Miss Farron," he inquired, hands in his pockets.

Lightning blinked rapidly, feeling a little twinge of embarrassment at her flustered state as she absorbed the words. She sat up straight and smoothed her dress.

"What? No, of course not. But if you're looking for Hope, he's in the control room with Maqui."

Bartholomew raised an eyebrow skeptically. "That so? Then I hope those two hurry up and finish whatever project it is this time. People are already starting to take their seats."

_That time already? Maybe we took a little more than five minutes…_

Looking down self-consciously at her military boots, Lightning muttered to herself, "Great. My feet are about to hate me." The red pumps mocked her from their place against the footboard.

Following her line of sight, Bartholomew chuckled at the soldier's obvious anguish. "Well, I'll take my leave, but be careful rushing around the hangar in those heels. I should track down my son."

Once he had made his way up the stairs, Lightning begrudgingly removed her boots and socks and stepped into the uncomfortable dress shoes, walking awkwardly around the room to get adjusted.

_I'm going to end up barefoot._

* * *

For the life of her, Lightning could not understand her sister's reasoning in having the Pulsian natives' matchmaker perform the rites. She had a sneaking suspicion that it had been Snow's hokey idea. That or Serah had done it as a gesture of goodwill. They still exchanged vows in the Cocoon tradition, but the hand-binding aspect was new, as were the drums pounding out a strange rhythm from time to time in between each phase of the ceremony. To her left and right respectively, Hope and Lucil seemed completely absorbed in the spectacle, though when Hope subtly took her left hand to intertwine their fingers she doubted he was paying full attention.

"What are you thinking?" she whispered next to his ear.

A smile spread over his face, and Hope replied, "Nothing much. Just how those two are so _right_ for each other. Don't think I could've predicted that match if I didn't know them both pretty well."

"True," Lightning agreed. "Proved me wrong."

_To __be __fair, __love __has __a __funny __way __of __sneaking __up __on __people. __Not __that __Snow __did __anything __remotely __like__ '__sneaking__' __into __my __sister__'__s __life, __so __maybe __love __just __catches _me _off __guard, __period._

The ceremony was over before they knew it, and all across the hangar everyone stood and applauded as Snow and Serah made their way down the center aisle, wrists still connected by a red, silk ribbon. Lightning suspected that they would be bound together for the entire evening – rituals always seemed to include some element of needless discomfort.

As soon as the glowing husband and wife had turned toward the far back corner of the reception area, the tiny woman responsible for performing the marriage rites stepped forward, lost in all her headdress-and-robe decorum, to direct the congregation to shift their chairs to the tables in preparation for dinner. Lightning felt distinctly that she had heard that voice before, but she dismissed the notion, already caught up in the crowd.

The transition was uncomfortable, not surprisingly, as Lightning bumped elbows with superiors, colleagues, and subordinates alike while maintaining balance in the accursed high heels and carrying her own chair toward the beckoning safe zone – in the form of a round table marked with the sign 'FAMILY.' Hope had been flagged down by Maqui from across the room, and she wasn't sure if his absence made the situation better or worse. Either way, the already self-conscious soldier could've done without facing oddly flirtatious looks from some of her own squad members. One corporal had the audacity to wink.

_Oh, they're in for a rude awakening next week._

But once she reached the destination, one look at Serah effectively wiped it all away. For that moment, her sister emanated joy – it was powerful and infectious. Every single person in view of the bride wore a heartfelt smile, and Lightning was convinced that the air around them was warmer than in the rest of the barely heated room.

"Sis!" Serah yelled over the chatter and scraping chair legs, waving her unattached hand emphatically. Lightning made time squeezing through a large gathering of adoring friends to get around the table and push her chair in next to her sister's. For once feeling caught up in the energy around her, she wrapped Serah in a tight hug.

"You deserve to be this happy," Lightning said sincerely.

When she pulled back, Serah hastily swiped a tear that had escaped to her cheek. "It's as close to perfect as anyone could hope for. I'm just lucky." She suddenly cocked her head to one side, twisting to get a good look at her sister's updo, and then her brow crinkled curiously.

"Huh, I see you showed that stubborn hair who was boss." She held up her bandaged finger, evidence of the struggle.

Lightning smirked. "Tried and failed. Hope fixed it for me."

"Surprise surprise," Serah replied deviously, looking past Lightning to wave and shout toward him as he wove through the labyrinth of people. "Hey Hope, you've been holding out on me _again_!"

The surge of giddiness that hit her when he jumped up to wave back, and at the way his gaze shifted from Serah and automatically landed on her face, took Lightning by surprise. She wondered for a split second if everyone else in the room could see what she saw in that smile, or could feel the magnetism that pulled them together. It seemed as tangible to her as the cord tying Snow to her sister.

_Probably kidding myself about this business of discretion._

* * *

Immediately after dinner, the guests began to meander from table to table again, sipping on wine and making conversation or gravitating toward the dance floor, but those at the head table – NORA on Snow's side, and Lightning, Hope, Bartholomew, Sazh and Dajh on Serah's – didn't feel the need to move, particularly not while Snow continued to regale them all with tales of his crazy adventures. Hope feared that if he laughed much harder, dinner would not sit well, so he had offered to get another bottle of wine from the refreshments table.

"'Ere you are!" a strikingly familiar voice said to his right, and he nearly dropped the bottle at the sound, turning to see the matchmaker as she set down her refilled glass. When she pulled back the beaded hood of her robe and faced him, Hope was dumbstruck.

Elise poked his chest repeatedly. "Not even a how do ya do, then? An' after all my help!" At that, he came to his senses.

"O-oh, it's great to see you Elise, but… you're the _matchmaker_?" he stammered, and then a much more pressing thought occurred to him. "Does that mean you worked on _me_?"

The frail woman chuckled devilishly. "Well aren't you clever, but it was no work at all gettin' you closer with that impatient friend o' yours. Tiny nudge at best. And goin' well so far, from the looks of it." She gave Hope a conspiratorial wink and patted his arm as she turned to leave.

He continued in bewilderment, "So the stargazing was a setup?"

"A spot-on suggestion, more like. Jus' let me know when you 'ave use for one o' these," she said slyly, taking his free hand to place a neatly bundled, red silk cord in the palm and folding his fingers closed around it. Even after Elise had disappeared into the sea of people, Hope stared after her, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. Shaking his head, he frantically shoved the red cord into his pants pocket, grabbed the wine and took off for the table.

_Does Light know? Would she freak out if I told her about this?_

Hope still must have appeared flustered when he returned to his seat, from the collection of questioning looks he received as he placed the bottle on the table.

"Geez, what was the holdup?" Snow jibed, his permanent grin gaining an edge of mischief. "You know there's only one kind of wine over there. No sense in deliberating."

Stuffing his hands into his pockets nervously, Hope felt the evidence of his strange encounter brush the fingers of his left hand and stumbled on his response. "Right, sorry, I just… ran into a friend at the table. Kind of a surprise."

"Really," Bartholomew began with a smirk. "Doesn't seem to have been a pleasant surprise. A former girlfriend, perhaps?" Everyone else at the table lost composure and broke into yet another round of boisterous laughter, excepting Lightning. She choked on her wine, and at that, the volume of laughter grew exponentially.

_Wow, Dad. Still a lot of catching up to do, apparently._

"_No_," Hope denied vehemently, taking his seat to give Lightning a few firm pats on the back. Once she had calmed down to a state of agitation-covered embarrassment, he finished his defense. "For your information, Dad, I don't _have_ any ex-girlfriends. I ran into Elise, from Aerma village."

Bartholomew narrowed his eyes behind his glasses, but eventually asked, "Elise? Sounds familiar, but could you refresh my memory?"

"Tiny laundry lady, uses a cane, super-friendly and kinda spunky… ringing a bell?" Hope offered, and his father's eyes lit up.

"You must mean the matchmaker! Can't believe I forgot her name." Bartholomew scratched his sparse beard thoughtfully.

Hope was downright stupefied. "Am I seriously the only person who missed that little detail? Would it have been so much trouble to let me in on the fact that my friend the laundry lady was some kind of renowned matchmaker?"

"I didn't know, either," Lightning replied quietly. She sipped the wine again, looking contemplative, and Hope wondered if she would come to the same conclusion he had.

Serah seemed a bit out of the loop. "Well, I only found out through Snow, and I met her today for the first time. Why does it even matter, Hope?" Her wide, blue eyes innocently questioned him, and he wanted to slap himself for not dropping the subject, particularly when Snow was chomping at the bit to jump in. The glinting eyes of the currently bandana-less man looked back and forth between them, probably drawing dangerous conclusions.

_He was the only one who knew something was up that night, and I'd like to keep it that way. Ugh, Serah's been so much better about keeping her mouth shut…_

"I felt like an idiot for not recognising her, that's all." Polishing off the last of his wine in one quick gulp, he stood and held out his hand for Lightning to take – he had formulated a halfway decent escape plan. "Wanna dance?"

_Wanna __get __away? _Please _get __this __message __and __cooperate__…_

After an agonising two seconds under her "Have you lost your mind?" stare, Hope saw understanding in the barest softening of that gaze, like ice thawing in her eyes. She set down her glass, muttering a barely audible, "Sure."

"Now this I have _got_ to see!" Snow immediately exclaimed, effectively setting off an avalanche of disaster. Hope felt his insides churn anxiously, but he couldn't even fit in a word of protest before it all crashed down. He wished that the seething aura of infuriation around Lightning could actually dampen Snow's enthusiasm, but it had been proven that punches to the face, staring down the fal'Cie, busted plumbing, and prison cells had little effect on the man.

The groom was already on his feet and bursting with excitement. "C'mon Serah! In fact, let's all get out there. Time to liven up this wedding!"

* * *

Five minutes later, the whole group was joining the steadily growing crowd in the open center of the room.

_Thanks __a __lot, __Snow. __I __can__'__t __really __dance, __I__'__m __pretty __sure __Light __can__'__t __either, __and __now __I __think __she__'__s __going __to __kill _both _of __us._

Hope was well aware that the only thing anchoring Lightning's feet just beside the dance floor was that stubborn refusal to never back down from a challenge – it certainly wasn't his presence or any real desire to participate. She had gone completely rigid, gripping the back of the nearest chair like it was the railing at the edge of a precipice. He wisely decided to give keep his hands to himself and avoid being too pushy.

Once her knuckles were no longer white on the chair, Hope cleared his throat. "You know, this isn't going to get any easier. Maybe we should just take the initiative before Snow drags us out there."

"I'd like to see him _try_," she growled, before saying more quietly, "It's hard enough to _walk_ in these shoes."

"So take them off."

Lightning finally looked up at him, still annoyed but apparently amused. "So you can step on my feet? No thanks."

"Here, then," Hope said obligingly, wriggling out of his own shoes and kicking them under the chair. "_Now_ will you?"

She lit up in that wonderfully understated way he'd been fortunate to enjoy on occasion, and continuously sought out, but there was no time to take it in. Immediately after stepping out of her shoes, Lightning began pulling him by the arm onto the floor.

"Sure took your sweet time gettin' here," Hope heard from his left in the midst of gradually fading music and pleasant chatter. His head snapped over to Sazh, a godsend in light of Snow's pestering, and the interruption made the dance floor claustrophobia slightly less unbearable.

Hope laughed nervously. "Cut me some slack! I have literally avoided this moment for, oh, almost ten years." He was distantly aware that Lightning had edged away, and wondered if those words had come out wrong.

"Oh shut it. If Dajh can follow along," Sazh emphasized, nodding in the direction of the ten-year-old dancing with one of the clinic staff a few meters away, "you two have nothin' to worry about. Just go!"

Thanks to a well-intended shove from Sazh, Hope was instantly a hand's breadth from his partner's face. Lightning froze and refused to look up, obviously regretting her rashness and probably contemplating routes through the mob that could get her out with no collateral damage.

Beside them, Lucil suddenly jumped in from amid the clusters of bodies, her red hair and deep purple dress unmistakable, and poked Sazh in the shoulder as the music began to play again. "Sorry to butt in, but you know how it is with slow songs. Got a partner?"

"I do now!" Sazh replied cheerfully.

As they spun away, Lucil aimed a snarky salute over Sazh's shoulder toward Lightning that left her more aggravated than anything else. She grabbed Hope's hands and planted them securely on her hips, and then took his shoulders. "He's right – let's just go."

"Roger that," Hope muttered.

Her eyes flashed, and he started moving.

_Slap immunity is a beautiful thing._

It turned out to be much simpler than Hope expected – the dance required no more than a series of turns and mirrored footwork, which straightened itself out after a few missteps and lots of observation. The flowing, steady music had a calming effect as well. Before long, his mind had the freedom to wander from its concentration on the task, back to the incident that had set them in their predicament. Back to Elise, and the terrifying red cord…

"Something wrong?" Lightning said, her voice just loud enough to be heard over the music. She twisted a few of the lower strands of his hair around her finger. "Is it about the matchmaker? Tell me."

With the added element of conversation, Hope automatically drew her closer, leaning to her ear. "Yes and no… I just can't believe Elise—"

"Set us up, right? Not surprising, and I don't really care," Lightning said nonchalantly.

Hope hesitated, finally stammering, "That-that wasn't exactly the main point of concern." His hand itched to pull the cord from his pocket and explain everything fully, but he didn't want to wreck the otherwise amazing experience of effortlessly following along with the music while simultaneously being able to keep her so near in a public situation.

_Should've taken Yuj up on that offer for ballroom dancing lessons._

But his train of thought was derailed as Snow and Serah passed close to them for a moment, just long enough for Snow to punch Hope's shoulder playfully. "Geez, haven't you ever heard of the 'six inch space' rule? Contrary to popular belief, even lovers need breathing room."

"_Snow_!" Serah scolded, with an equally harsh glare, jerking his attached hand back by the red cord with enough insistence that they moved away again. Still, it was sufficient to paint Lightning's face in embarrassment, and Hope felt her hold on him loosen and slip away entirely. The song was ending anyway, but that fact couldn't lessen the blow as she hurriedly wove her way across the crowded dance floor and out of sight. Rather than add insult to injury by chasing her down and making a scene, he let her go.

_So she panicked. She just needs to think it over and move on, like usual._

Upon retrieving his shoes, Hope saw the red heels still in place and picked them up. He carried them back to the table, but finding that Lightning was not there, he simply ducked out of the party to drop them off in the bunker.

_Not like she'll wear them again anyway._

* * *

It turned out to have been the best decision he could have made. He immediately noticed the absence of her boots and coat, which merely narrowed Lightning's location to somewhere outside, but the betraying factor was his missing transport keys.

Slinking out through the south entrance, Hope padded through the few inches of new snowfall around the building to where the transport was parked, out on the north landing area. The silent, starry atmosphere was a sharp contrast to the rowdy celebration within the hangar's walls. It immediately put him at ease.

The main cabin was cold and empty, but a soft, blue glow was visible through the cockpit entrance, so Hope casually entered and sat in his pilot's seat. Lightning had crossed her beaten up military boots and propped them up beside where the solar lamp rested on the center of the dash, and he shut it off to let her feel the safety of the darkness and see the stars, not wishing to be abrupt. She never had responded well to that.

_Maybe Snow was right – maybe she did need breathing room._

Silence prevailed for several minutes before, surprisingly, she spoke up. "Taking the blame isn't going to help. I know you want to."

"What? But it was my suggestion to—"

"_No_. Snow doesn't know when to butt out of other people's business," she snapped. "One of these days I _will_ get him."

"You know he's just teasing, though," Hope replied weakly, not exactly sure why he was trying to defend the instigator of the trouble. "If you didn't get so riled up, he wouldn't keep doing it. And while we're on the subject, why are you ashamed for people to know about us, anyway?" The truth kept pouring out, so he simply shut the source before it worsened.

_Digging a hole. Excellent start._

Despite the darkness, he could tell that her body tensed. "I should ask you the same thing. Why do you care if Snow runs his mouth about what he _thinks_ happened back in the village?" Lightning countered, not waiting for a response before she continued. "Because it's personal, that's why. Would you prefer that I make out with you in public?"

"No, just _not_ run off when someone like Snow decides to have no tact. I always get stuck covering for it," Hope muttered. "In every other situation, you're fearless."

Sighing, she turned toward him and said carefully, "Well, this… is a new 'situation' for me."

Hope laughed out loud. "How do you think _I_ feel?"

"Based on your tone, I'd say agitated but relenting," Lightning answered plainly. She put down her boots and stared intently out the windshield at the stars.

_Well, she got that dead on._

"Come sit with me, if you want," he requested, not quite sure what to expect.

It certainly wasn't the reply she gave.

"Hmm… I'd rather save that raincheck for a more secure location – no offense to the transport."

The amusement in his expression was lost to the dim lighting, but it remained in his voice when he corrected, "No, that's not what I meant! _Just_ sit. Relax."

"Isn't that generally how things start out?"

"Sit on the floor, then," he countered.

"That won't make a difference, and you know it," she replied, and after a momentary delay they both stifled a chuckle.

But Lightning finally did move, taking a seat on the floor and leaning her head back against the seat between his knees. She tilted her face up to look at him, but winced at the motion.

"Hairpins," she huffed. "Enemy number two, after high heels."

Immediately attacking the problem, Hope began removing the pins one by one, letting the twisted locks fall as he said to them both, "Serah will understand. It's getting late anyway."

"I couldn't care less," Lightning said calmly. "Oh, and you didn't tell me what really happened with Elise that made you a nervous wreck earlier."

_It's going to come out sooner or later._

He pulled the wound ribbon from his pocket carefully, handing it down for Lightning to inspect. "She gave me this, and I thought that if I told you it might—"

"Freak me out? Why?"

"You do know what it is, right?" Hope asked, puzzled.

"Yes," she replied, running her thumb over the bundle. "It's a silk cord like the one Snow and Serah have. By itself, though, it can't 'freak me out', not unless you were giving it to me with all the obligations attached."

The comment made a deep place in his heart seize up with fear, but it wouldn't do to let that come out. Combing his fingers through her loose hair, he asked with as little emphasis as possible, "Because of the suddenness of it, or in general?"

"Mainly the suddenness. I'm not one hundred percent sure what to think about marriage, but I don't have any reason to rule it out so far," she answered evenly.

Relief washed over Hope, and with a clearer head, he thought of the perfect way to keep her at ease.

"Why don't you hold onto the cord, then?" he offered. "Even if you decide to throw it away later, my only real concern is that you're with me, however this works out. It's in your hands."

Looking down at Lightning, the waves of hair that framed her face had a softening effect – that or she really was as moved as her expression suggested. He had absolutely no desire to take his eyes off that image.

"We'll see," she said finally, and Hope noticed a slight swish of air before he felt the cord catch behind his neck and gently pull him down to her.

_I'll take that as a good sign._

* * *

YET ANOTHER BETA ENDNOTE:

Lucil: DRUNK!LUCIL IS DRUNK. (No, seriously, why wasn't I like this  
throughout the whole story? IMAGINE HOW MUCH MORE SWASH-BUCKLING THERE WOULD  
BE. IMAGINE IT.)

Light: [is mildly disturbed that Lucil is challenging her to a duel over  
whether or not she bones Hope]

Light: DRUNK!LIGHT IS DRUNK. (Now imagine how much more boning there would be  
if she was drunk the whole story. SO MUCH MORE BONING. IMAGINE IT.)

Hope: I am SO IN SUPPORT OF THIS.

Bartholomew: [with a camera] ME TOO

Hope: O_o

Light: O_o

Light: oh god why

Hope: Hey, you know what would be random? If, after all that bullcrap we went  
through, I fell to my death off this bloody hangar stringing lights for a  
wedding.

Light: Yeah, I'm sure glad the author didn't go that way with this story.

Hope: Be a big shock, though. Not cliché at all.

Light: If it helps, I'd cry for a few years and then get with Sazh.

Hope: That's a nice mental image, thanks for that.

Light: BUT IT'S NOT CLICHÉ.

Hope: So this red string symbolizes our true and undying love.

Light: Yep.

Hope: It's very meaningful and sentimental and stuff. I know because the  
matchmaker told me, and she's all spiritual. And kind of crazy.

Light: Yep.

Hope: Huh.

Light: …

Hope: …

Light: ...wanna go use it for kinky bondage sex?

Hope: OH GOD YES.

Bartholomew: [still filming]

Light: O_O ok seriously wtf

* * *

And that's a wrap! Thank you all for reading XD I have made several corrections and updates to all of the chapters this fall, so everything should be up to speed now. I just felt it was worth the little break from writing my prequel to make sure the original got some special fixer-upper treatment!

- Hthar


End file.
